IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


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I.G 


lii|^    12.5 
MS,    12.0 


LI 


u 


yi  jjjj^  ||.6 


-i 


Photographic 

Scoioes 

Corporatian 


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'v 


33  VnST  MAM  STRUT 

WnSTIR,N.Y.  MSM 

(716)t7a-4S03 


1 


i: 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Saries. 


CIHM/iCiVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


.-6^ 


Tachnical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  inttituta  ha«  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


D 


n 


D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagAe 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurAe  et/ou  pelliculAe 


I      I    Covar  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□    Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encra  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avac  d'autres  documents 


r~7   Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 


along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 

distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  poaaibia,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certainas  pages  blanches  ajouttes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  taxte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  filmAas. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairas  supplimantaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  Fa  mailleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  poaaibia  da  se  procurer.  Lea  ditails 
da  cat  exemplaira  qui  sont  paut-*tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vua  bibliogrsphique.  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  d«ns  la  mithoda  normala  de  filmaga 
sont  >ndiqu*s  ci-dessous. 


|~n   Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  <  a  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag*es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur*es  et/'ou  pelliculies 

Pages  discoloured,  stair^tfd  or  foxei 
Pages  d*color*es.  tachet*es  ou  piqu*es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach*e8 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prin 

Qualit*  in*gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materit 
Comprend  du  material  supplimantaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

r~~l  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~l\  Pages  discoloured,  stair^tfd  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

rrri  showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I  Only  edition  available/ 


D 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pages  totalement  ou  partioilament 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure. 
etc.,  ont  *t*  film*es  *  nouveau  de  fapon  * 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  r*duction  indiqu*  ci-dassous 

10X                           14X                            18X                           22X 

26X 

30X 

V 

12X 


16X 


aox 


24X 


28X 


32X 


I 

itail* 
I  du 
odifiar 
'  una 
mage 


Tha  copy  fllmad  hara  haa  baan  raproduead  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

Stminary  of  Qutbcc 
Library 

Tha  trragaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  l»aat  quality 
poasibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificationt. 


L'aKamplaIra  fllm«  tut  raproduit  grica  A  la 
g4nAroait4  da: 

S4mincirt  da  Qu4bac 
Biblk>th«qua 

Laa  Imagaa  aulvantaa  out  AtA  raproduitaa  ava«  la 
plua  grand  aoln.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattatA  da  I'asait.  yiaira  filmA.  at  an 
conformitA  avac  las  conditiona  du  contrat  do 
filmcga. 


Original  coplaa  In  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  ending  on 
the  laat  page  with  e  printed  or  IHuatratad  imprea- 
aion.  or  the  back  cover  when  eppropriete.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Lee  OKamplalraa  orlgirtauM  dont  la  couvarture  en 
popier  est  imprimAe  sont  filmAa  en  commen^ent 
par  la  premier  plot  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  per  le  second 
plot,  selon  le  ces.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAs  en  commencent  par  la 
premiAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreasion  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shell  contain  the  symbol  — »-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (maaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  aymboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniAre  imege  de  cheque  nticrofiche.  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbolf  — »>  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framea  as 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvant  Atre 
filmAs  A  des  taux  do  rAduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  soul  clichA.  il  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  do  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Lea  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthodo. 


rrata 
to 


peiure. 
n  A 


□ 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

% 


SAI 


e, 


0( 


rva  /' 


**Ab  aatfqoe 
■■■■  qaa  [MM 


D.  &  J.  £ 


s 


^^f, 


THE  LIFE 


SAINT    ELIZABETH, 

or  HUNOART, 


ft 


ST  TBS 

COUNT   DB    MONTALEMBERT, 


TBANSLATID  BT  MABT  BAOIflT. 


rwa  tlTTBODUCTtON  TMdNBLATMB   BT  MM9,   J,   BABltM^, 


*  Ab  BBtiqao  Kriptte  MB  eoBlMtw,  ipM  qao^im  teriiitc^rtre  tneepi,  noa  at  Miwllui 
■Mun  qua  p«iie  nulla  Mt,  propoiierMn;  cM  at  raa  abwonditM,  qua  in  stra*  varitaUt 
iM^Mt,  eonT«ll«rMi  ia  laona."— OMBtiM  Iblmuk.  i»  Out.  Meg.,  r«l.  U.,  ifU 


D.  &  J.  SADLIER  &  CO] 

wmali 


EST 


COPYRIGHT, 

D.  &  J.  SADLIER  &  CO.. 
1884 


^\ 


COUNT  DE  HONTALEMBERT, 


rai    ILLVITBIOUS   CHAMPIOll    OP    RBLIOIOM    AVD    LIBIBfff 


VHBOUOHOUT    THB    WOBLD, 


CM>  8««iurtitfMi 


OP  UIB 


•HISTOIBB  DE  SAINTE  BLISABR^* 


D  nSCRIBBD, 


Win  SBMTDIBinB  OP  HBABTPB.T  ADMIBAnOV  AMO  PBOPODBB 


BBBPBOr  POB  mS  HOBLB  CHABACTIF, 


iUD  BTBB  lABHSn  STHPATIIT  IH  BBHAUT  OV 


OUSHPBOnA 


FREFAOB 


to  THB  SECOND   AMBBICAW  KDITIOH. 


Count  de  Montalembebt^  lAfe  of  St,  EHzabetk  qf 
^miga/iry  has  been  now  some  years  before  the  public, 
%nd,  itbongli  more  recently  translarted  into  English,  its 
ineritB  are  not  <iifiknown  'to  the  Oatholic  world.  It  is 
a  woffk  joi  such  jmre  merit,  in  its  kind,  that  wherever  it 
goes  it  will  be  sure  to  nkaftce  friends  and  admirers  for 
itself,  and  requires  not  a  word  pf  commendation. 
There  is  a  winning  charm,  a  soft  poetic  halo  around 
the  whole  narrative,  that  is  in  admirable  I^oging  with 
the  life  and  character  of  the  charming  princess  whoEe 
brief  mortal  career  it  chronicles.  It  required  a  Mon- 
talembert  to  write  the  Life  of  Elizabeth,  and  it  would 
also  require  a  master's  hand  to  render  it  faithfully  into 
a  new  language.  It  is  by  no  means  so  easy  as  some 
imagine  to  translate  a  book,  especially  if  it  be  a  work 
of  genius,  for  not  only  does  it  require  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  bcth  lan^ages,  but  also  a  certain 


PRBFAOI. 


portion  of  the  creative  genius  which  brought  it  forth 
from  notliiiig.  When  Miss  Hackott  translated  the  Lift 
itself,  she  omitted  the  Introduction  of  the  noble  author, 
which  is  certainly  a  valuable  appendage  to  tlie  work« 
presenting,  as  it  does,  a  beautiful  and  graphic  picture 
of  the  Christian  world  during  the  half  century  which 
included  the  brief  career  of  Elizabeth.  Tliis  omission 
I  endeavored  to  supply  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  fully 
conscious  at  the  same  time,  that  I  could  hardly  do  jus- 
tice to  so  admirable  a  composition.  > 

In  preparing  this  second  edition  for  the  press,  I 
have  carefully  compared  ihd  whole  work  vrith  th^ 
original,  and  I  trust  it  will  be  fomid  comparatively 
free  from  the  typographical  aud  other  erron  which 
disfigured  the  former  edition. 


MonuAK,  ^tk.  IMI. 


\i 


CONTENTS. 


i>,h 


9&m 

Ibtrodnollon f 

L  How  Duke  Hemuinn  nlfnad  to  Tborlnnfas  and  King  Andraw  la  IIiui> 
garj,  Mid  bow  the  deer  8t  BIlBobetb  wm  born  et  Priaboarf;  end  wm 

brooglit  to  Elaeneeb 106 

IL  How  Uie  dew  BU  Elisabetb  henourwl  Ood  In  her  Cbildhood lit 

III.  How  the  deer  St  Eliiabeth  bad  to  suffer  ft>r  God 1ft 

lY.  How  tiie  young  Louie  wee  reltbAil  to  tbe  dear  St  Eliaabetb,  and  bow  be 

married  ber IM 

v.  How  Uie  Duke  Louli,  bueband  of  tbe  dear  St  Elliabatb,  waa  afreeable 

to  God  and  man Ut 

TL  How  the  Duke  LouU  and  tbe  dear  Bt  Biisabeth  UTed  togetber  before 

God  in  tbe  holy  state  of  marriage 140 

VII.  How  tlie  dear  St  EliiabeUi  praetiaed  the  Tirtne  of  mortiflcation 144 

▼III.  or  the  great  charity  of  the  dear  St  Elisabetb,  and  of  her  love  of  povertj  151 

IX.  Of  the  great  devotion  and  humility  of  the  dear  St  Elisabetb Ill 

Z.  How  the  dear  St  Elisabeth  was  known  and  cherished  by  tbe  glorions 
St  Franci^  and  bow  abe  bad  tor  spiritaal  dlreetur  Maater  Conrad  of 

Marbourg IM 

ZI.  How  tbe  Lord  waa  pleaaad  to  waalfeat  bia  graee  in  tbo  person  of  tbe 

dear  St  Elisabeth , 180 

ZIL  Hew  tbe  DukeLoui«  yrsteeted  bia  poorpeopio 180 

ZIII.  How  a  great  famine  devaatated  TburUigia,  and  tiow  tbo  Jear  St  Elisa- 
betb practised  all  the  worka  of  merey 104 

ZIY.  How  Doke  Louia  returned  to  bia  wife,  and  bow  ho  nandered  tme  jnatioe 

,  toliisdoar  monks  of  Key  nbaitibruna 901 

ZY*  How  the  good  Duke  Louis  took  up  the  Crooa,  and  of  tbe  great  grief 
wherewith  he  bade  (krewell  to  bis  IHenda,  bis  family,  and  the  dear 

St  Elisabetb SOf 

ZYL  How  Duke  Louis  died  on  bis  way  to  the  Holy  Land 394 

ZYII.  How  tbe  dear  St  Elisabeth  heard  of  tbo  death  of  ber  hosband,  and  of 

her  great  agony  and  tribuUtion 

SYIIL  How  the  dear  St  Elisabetb  was  driven  oat  of  her  castle  with  ber  Uttlo 
ehildren,  and  reduced  to  extreme  misery,  and  of  the  great  ingratltodo 
tf  mon  towardi 


XIX 
XX 

XXI 

XXII. 
XXUl. 

ZXIV. 

xxy. 

ZXYL 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XZIX. 

XXX. 

ZXXL 

ZXXIL 

CXXIIL 
IZXIT. 


OONTIVTt. 

• 

ffew  tk»  All-m<^lftil  Jmo*  oenMltd  tb«  tUar  8t  Klis*b«th  la  hm  loa^ 

Uneti  Md  niUi-ry,  •ml  bow  th«  awMt  Mid  moM  ot«u«nt  Vtrgio  Mary 

CMS*  to  Inntruct  and  fortiry  li«r Mi 

Uow  tht  dear  8t  Klliabwth  rvfuMd  to  tnarr/  a  Moond  tlUM,  and  b«w 

•he  oonaacratMl  li«r  w«ddliig  gannanta  to  Jaaui^  tba  apouio  vi  bar 

•oul Ml 

How  the  dear  St.  EJUabatl»  raaclvad  tba  lanalM  of  bar  buaband,  k^A 

bow  Ui«jr  wera  InUrMd  at  Bajraliartabfttaa tM 

How  tha  Tburinglan  kulgliU  mailit  Duka  Uanry  repent  ofhla  wlcbed- 

nci^  and  ina«le  lilm  render  ample  Jiutlee  to  Uie  dear  St.  Klliabetb . .  ITf 
Uow  tlie  dear  8U  Ullaabutb  renounced  tbe  worldly  life,  and,  retiring 

to  Marbourg,  aaaunad  tbera  tba  liabit  of  tba  Order  of  tba  gturtoitf 

8t  FranoU %U 

or  tba  great  poverty  In  whlob  tba  dear  St.  Elizabeth  lived,  and  k*ir 

•be  advanced  in  biunlllijt  and  loaroy  towarda  all  crea>ura»4 SSS 

How  tba  dear  St  EUiabaUi  reftwed  to  lotura  ta  bar  lithar'a  UnfdoU, 

In  order  that  abe  might  mora  sorely  enter  tba  kingdom  of  Heaven.  Ml 
Uow  tbe  deer  St  Klliabetb  dUtrtbuted  all  bar  property  amoagat  tba 

poor 801 

How  tha  doar  St.  Xliaabeth  learned  fVom  Maatar  Oonrad,  bow  In  ill 

thingi  ta  deaCroy  ••l^wl^ 801 

How  tbe  Lord  exerclited  bla  power  and  mercy  at  tba  iataroaaaiun  of 

tha  dear  Bt.  Blbaibeth,  and  of  the  marvelloua  aflcaay  of  bar  prayer*.  811 
Hnw  the  dear  St  Elisabeth,  when  aged  twenty-lbnr  yeara,  waa  aum* 

moned  to  tbe  eternal  wttddlngfSiaat 881 

How  the  doar  St  Elixabotb  waa  buried  In  tba  eburob  near  bar  Uoa- 

pital,  and  bow  avan  tha  Itttla  Urda  of  baavan  oelabratad  bar  oba^ 

quiea 841 

Of  tba  wooderAU  mlraeloa  obtained  flrom  Ood  by  tbe  tateroeaalon^ 

tba  dear  St^  Blliabetb,  and  how  aazioualy  bar  brotber-ln<hiw,  Dulta 

Conrad,  wiaked  to  have  her  caaonlaed 841 

How  tbe  dear  St  Elizabeth  wa^  oanunlzed  by  Pope  Oregorjr,  end  of 

the  greet  Joy  and  veneratkm  of  the  MthAil  in  Germany,  on  tbo  oeaa> 

•Ion  of  (ha  exaltation  of  her  relies  at  Marbouiv 868 

Of  what  baeama  of  tba  ehlldiea  aadrahittvaa  of  tba  dear  s^  BUaabatb 

after  ber  deatK  and  of  tba  great  aalnta  that  apmng  fh>m  ber  raaa. . .  184 
Of  the  noble  Cbnrob  that  waa  oreetad  at  Marbauif  In  braoor  of  tha 

daar  Bt.  EUaabatb ;  aad  bow  her  prodooi  talka  vava  ppafcoed; 

•laaUiaaoaahMlasaf  tktoblMMjr .... 


INTRODUCTION. 


On  the  10th  of  November,  1883,  a  traveller  arrived  at 
llarbourg,  a  city  of  Electoral  Hesse,  situated  on  the  pleasant 
banks  of  the  Labn.  He  stopped  there  in  order  to  stody  the 
Oothic  Church  which  it  contains,  celebrated  not  only  for  itf 
rare  and  perfect  beauty,  but  also  because  it  was  the  firnt  iu 
Oermaay  wherein  the  ogee  prevailed  over  the  full  arch,  in 
the  great  revival  of  art  in  the  IStb  century.  This  basilic 
bears  the  name  of  St.'  Elizabeth,  and  it  happened  that  the 
traveller  in  question  arrived  on  the  very  day  of  her  feast.  In 
the  ohurch, — now  Lutheran,  like  all  the  country  around,~- 
there  was  seen  no  mark  of  solemnity  ;  only,  in  honour  of  the 
day,  it  was  open,  contrary  to  the  practice  of  Protestants,  and 
children  were  amusing  themselves  by  jumping  on  the  tomb- 
stones. The  stranger  passed  along  its  vast  naves,  all  deserted 
and  dismantled,  yet  still  young  ia  their  lightness  and  elegance. 
He  eaw  resting  against  a  pillar  the  statue  of  a  young  woman 
in  a  widow's  dress,  her  face  calm  and  resigned,  one  hand  hold- 
ing the  model  of  a  choroh,  and  the  other  giving  alms  to  an 
unhappy  cripple  ;  further  on,  on  bare  and  naked  altars,  from 
which  no  priestly  hand  ever  wiped  the  dust,  he  carefully 
aiaanned  some  ancient  painting  on  wood,  half  effaced,  and 
■culptures  in  relievo^  sadly  mutilated,  yet  all  profoundly  im* 
pressed  with  the  simple  and  tender  charm  of  Christian  art. 
In  these  representations,  he  distinguished  a  yonng  woman  ia 


10 


INTRODUCTIOH. 


great  trepidation,  showing  to  a  crowned  wnrrior  the  skirt  of 
her  cloak  filled  with  roses  ;  in  another  place,  that  same 
knight  angrily  drew  the  covering  from  his  bod,  and  beheld 
Christ  stretched  on  the  cross  ;  a  little  farther,  the  knight  aifd 
the  Itidy  were  reluctantly  tearing  tbemselTes  asander  after  a 
fond  embrace  ;  then  again  was  seeu  the  young  woman,  fairer 
thnn  ever;  extended  on  her  bed  of  death,  surrounded  by 
priests  and  weeping  nuns  ;  in  the  last  place,  bishops  were 
taking  up  from  a  vault  a  coffin  on  which  an  Emperor  was 
placing  his  crown.  The  traveller  was  told  that  these  were 
incidents  in  the  history  of  St.  Elizabeth,  one  of  the  sovereigns 
of  that  country,  who  died  just  six  hundred  years  ago,  in  that 
same  city  of  Marbourg,  and  was  buried  in  that  same  church. 
In  the  corner  of  an  obscure  sacristy,  he  was  shown  the  silver 
shrine,  richly  sculptured,  which  had  contained  the  relics  of  the 
Saint,  down  to  the  time  when  one  of  her  descendants,  havinar 
become  a  Protestant,  tore  them  oat  mnd  flung  them  to  the 
winds.  Under  the  stone  canopy  wBich  formerly  overhang 
the  shrine,  he  saw  that  every  step  was  deeply  hollowed,  and 
he  was  told  that  these  were  the  traces  of  the  innumerable 
pilgrims  who  came  of  old  to  pray  at  the  shrine,  but  none 
within  the  last  three  hundred  years.  He  knew  that  there 
were  in  that  city  some  few  of  the  faithful  and  a  Catholic 
priest ;  but  neither  Mass  nor  any  other  visible  commemora* 
tion  of  the  Saint  to  whom  that  day  was  consecrated. 

The  stranger  kissed  the  stone  hallowed  by  the  knees  df 
faithfnl  generations,  and  resumed  his  solitary  course  ;  but  he 
was  ever  after  haunted  by  a  sad  yet  sweet  remembran<^  of 
that  forsaken  Saint,  whose  forgotten  festival  he  had  unwit- 
tingly come  to  celebrate.  He  set  about  studying  her  life;*  h« 
successively  ransacked  those  rich  depositories  of  ancient  lito^ 


*  TUm*  resesrohM  bare  stnee  been  completed  hj  others  In  ▼srions  llbcwto  4 
tiaif  Md  FUaden,  eepeebllj  te  the  VetleiUB  lad  the  LMueattak. 


IMTRODDCTtOV. 


11 


ratore  which  aboond  in  Oermany.  Charmed  more  and  mort 
every  day  by  what  be  learned  of  her,  that  thought  gpradoally 
became  the  guiding  star  of  his  wanderings.  After  haTing 
drawn  all  he  could  from  books  and  chronicles,  and  consulted 
manoscripts  the  most  neglected,  he  wished,  after  the  example 
of  the  first  historian  of  the  Saint,  to  examine  places  and 
popular  traditions.  He  went,  then,  from  city  to  city,  from 
castle  to  castle,  from  church  to  church,  seeking  everywhere 
traces  of  her  who  has  always  been  known  in  Catholic  Ger- 
many as  the  dear  Saint  Elizabeth.  He  tried  in  vain  to  vi^iit 
her  birth-place,  Presburg,  in  farther  Hungary  ;  but  he  was, 
at  least,  able  to  make  some  stay  at  that  famous  castle  of 
Wartbourg,  whither  she  came  a  child,  where  her  girlish  days 
were  spent,  and  where  she  married  a  husband  as  pious  and  as 
.oving  as  herself ;  he  could  climb  the  rough  paths  by  which 
she  went  on  her  errands  of  charity  to  her  beloved  friends,  the 
,ppor  ;  he  followed  her  to  Creuzburg,  where  she  first  became 
a  mother ;  to  the  monastery  of  Reinhartsbrunn,  where  at 
twenty  years  of  age  she  had  to  part  with  her  beloved  hus- 
band, who  went  to  die  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ;  to  Bamberg, 
where  she  found  an  asylum  from  the  most  cruel  persecu- 
tions: to  the  holy  mountain  of  Andechs,  the  cradle  of  her 
fam'ly,  where  she  made  an  offering  of  her  wedding-robe  when 
the  cherished  wife  had  become  a  homeless  and  exiled  widow. 
At  Erfurth  he  touched  with  his  lips  the  glass  which  she  left 
the  humble  nuns  as  a  memento  of  her  visit.  Finally,  ha 
returned  to  Marbonrg,  where  she  consecrated  the  last  days 
of  her  life  to  the  most  heroic  works  of  charity,  and  where  she 
died  at  twenty-four — to  pray  at  her  desecrated  tomb,  and  to 
gather  with  difficulty  some  few  traditi^^v^^Rpoogst  a  people 
who,  with  the  faith  of  their  father^ 
to  their  sweet  patroness. 

The  result  of  these  protractc 
pilgrimages,  is  contained  b  thii 


jr 'devotion 


loaf 


13 


INTROOUCTIOir. 


Often,  when  wandering  through  our  plMtercd-up  c'tf«f,  or 
our  rnral  districts,  despoiled  uf  their  ancient  ornaments,  and 
fast  losing  all  traces  of  ancestral  life,  the  sight  of  a  ruin  which 
has  escaped  the  spoilers, — of  a  statue  lying  in  the  grass, — an 
arched  door-way, — a  staved  rosace,  will  arouse  the  imagine 
tion  ;  the  mind  is  struck,  as  well  as  the  eye  ;  our  curiosity  ii 
evcited  ;  we  ask  ourselves  what  part  did  that  ftugment  play 
hi  the  whole  ;  we  unconsciously  fall  into  contemplation  :  by 
degrees,  the  entire  fabric  rises  befor  .  our  mental  vision,  and 
when  the  work  of  interior  reconstruction  is  completed,  we 
behold  the  Abbey,  the  Church,  fhe  Cathedral,  towering  aloft 
in  all  its  majestic  beauty ;  we  see  the  sweep  of  its  vaulted 
roof,  and  mingle  in  the  crowd  of  its  faithful  people,  amid  the 
symbolic  pomp  and  ineffable  harmony  of  ancient  worship. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  writer  of  this  book,  having  travelled 
long  in  foreign  countries,  and  pondered  much  on  past  ages, 
has  picked  up  this  fragment,  which  he  offers  to  those  who 
have  the  same  faith  and  the  same  sympathies  as  bimself,  to 
aid  them  in  reconstructing  in  their  mind  the  sublime  edifice 
of  the  Catholic  ages. 

Thanks  to  the  many  invaluable  L^onnmenta  6f  the  Kfe  of 
St.  Elizabeth,  which  are  found  in  tbe  great  historical  coHeo* 
tions  of  Germany  as  well  aa  in  the  manuscripts  of  its  librae 
rtes  ;  thanks  to  the  numerous  and  minute  details  transmitted 
to  us  by  biographers,  some  of  them  pontemporaries  of  St. 
Elizabeth,  and  others  attracted  by  the  charm  which  her  char* 
acter  and  her  destiny  are  so  well  calculated  to  exercise  over 
every  Catholic  mind  ;  thanks  to  this  singular  combination  of 
tfuspicious  circumstances,  we  are  able  to  effect  a  double  pui^ 
pose  in  writing  this  life  While  closely  adbering  to  the  (bib 
taaental  idea  of  juch  a  work,  viz.,  to  give  the  life  of  a  Saint, 
It  legend  of  the  ages  of  Faiih,  we  may  also  hope  to  furnish  a 
ftiithfiil  picture  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  society  at  a 
pericd  when  the  empire  of  t&e  Church  and  of  chivalry  wae  al 


■X. 


nrTRODvoTtor. 


18 


tin  height.  It  has  long  been  f^lt  that  eren  the  purely  profan* 
history  of  an  '  *>  so  important  for  the  destinies  of  mankind, 
might  gain  n  h  in  depth,  and  in  accmracy,  from  particular 
researches  on  the  object  of  the  most  fervent  faith  and  dearcsl 
affectitcs  of  the  men  of  those  times.  We  may  Tentaro  to  say 
that,  in  the  history  of  the  middle  ages,  there  afc  fi^tr  biogr* 
phies  60  well  adapted  to  carry  out  that  Tiew,  aj  the  history 
of  St.  Elizabeth. 

On  the  other  hand,  before  we  say  more  of  this  Saint,  and 
the  ideas  which  she  represents,  it  seems  to  us  that  we  should 
give  a  sketch  of  the  state  of  Christianity  at  the  time  in  which 
she  lived,  for  her  life  would  be  totally  inexplicable  to  those 
who  neither  knew  nor  could  appreciate  her  age.  Not  only  is 
it  that  her  destiny,  her  family,  and  her  name,  are  connected, 
n\pre  or  less,  with  a  host  of  the  events  of  those  times,  but 
that  her  character  is*  so  analogous  to  what  the  world  then 
Saw  on  a  grander  scale,  that  it  becomes  indispensably  neces- 
sary for  the  reader  to  recall,  as  he  goes  along,  the  principal 
features  of  the  social  state  wherein  her  name  holds  such  a  dis- 
tinguished place.  We  must,  therefore,  be  allowed  to  turn 
aside  for  a  moment,  before  commencing  the  life  of  St.  Eliza- 
beth, in  order  to  depict  her  contemporaries  and  her  times. 

St.  Elizabeth  was  born  in  1207,  and  died  in  1231,  so  that 
her  bnef  career  occurs  during  that  first  half  of  the  18th 
century,  which  is,  perhaps,  of  all  other  periods,  the  most  im- 
portant, the  most  complete,  and  the  most  rcsplehdent,  in  the 
history  of  Catholic  society.  It  would  be,  it  seems  to  us,  diflS* 
cult  to  find,  in  the  glorious  annals  of  the  Church,  a  time  when 
her  influence  over  the  world  and  over  mankind,  in  all  its  de> 
velopments,  was  more  vast,  more  prolific,  more  incontestible. 
Never,  perhaps,  had  the  Spouse  of  Christ  reigned  with  soch 
absolate  dominion  over  the  mind  and  heart  of  nations ;  she 
saw  aH  the  ancient  elements,  against  which  she  had  so  long 
struggled,  at  length  subdued  and  prostrate  at  her  feet ;  tke 


14 


IVTRODUOTIOir. 


I        ! 

I 


entire  West  Wowed  with  respectful  lore  onder  her  holy  law 
In  the  loan;  rA*nggle  which  she  had  had  to  sustain,  eren  from 
her  divine  crigin,  against  the  passions  and  repngnanoes  of 
fallen  hanianity,  nerer  had  she  more  successfully  fought,  nor 
more  vigorously  pinioned  down  her  enemies.  It  is  true,  her 
fictory  was  far  from  being,  and  could  not  be,  complete,  since 
vhe  is  here  below  only  to  fight,  and  expects  to  triumph  only 
in  heaven  ;  bnt  certain  it  is  that  then,  more  than  at  any 
other  moment  of  that  protracted  warfare,  the  love  of  her 
children,  their  boundless  devotion,  their  numbers  and  their 
daily  increasing  courage,  the  Saints  whom  she  every  day  saw 
coming  to  light  amongst  them^  gave  to  that  immortal  mother 
strength  and  consolation,  of  which  she  has  since  been  but  too 
cruelly  deprived. 

The  thirteenth  century  is  the  more  remarkable,  on  thii 
point,  inasmuch  as  the  close  of  the. twelfth  was  far  from 
being  auspicious.  In  fact,  the  echo  of  St.  Bernard's  voice, 
which  seems  to  have  wholly  filled  that  age,  had  grown  feeble 
■towards  its  end,  and  with  it  failed  the  exterior  force  of  the 
Gatholic  thought.  The  disastrous  battle  of  Tiberiad,  the  loss 
of  the  true  Cross,  and  the  taking  of  Jerusalem  by  Saladin, 
(1187,)  had  showq  the  West  overcome  by  the  East,  on  the 
sacred  soil  which  the  Crusades  had  redeemed.  The  debauch- 
ery and  tyranny  of  Henry  II.  of  England,  the  murder  of  St. 
Thomas  a  Becket,  the  captivity  of  Richard  CcRtir  de  Xton, 
the  violence  exercised  by  Philip  Augustus  towards  his  wife 
Ingerburge,  the  atrocious  cruelties  of  the  Emperor  Henry 
VII.  in  Sicily— all  these  triumphs  of  brute  force  indicated, 
l>ut  too  plainly,  a  certain  diminution  of  Catholic  strength ; 
whilst  the  progress  of  the  Waldensian  and  Albigensian 
heresies,  with  the  universal  complaints  of  the  relaxation  of 
the  clergy  and  the  religious  orders,  disclosed  a  dangerouf 
evil  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  Church.  But  a  glorious  reaction 
^WM  soon  to  set  iu.    In  the  last  years  ;f  that  century  (1198,) 


IVTROOUOTIOir. 


u 


Ihc  chair  of  St.  Peter  was  ascended  by  a  man  in  the  prime 
of  life,  who,  under  the  name  of  Innocent  III.  was  to  struggle 
with  invincible  courage  against  the  enemies  of  justice  and  the 
Church,  and  to  give  to  the  world  perhaps  the  most  accoai» 
plished  model  of  a  Sovereign  Pontiff,  the  type,  by  excellence, 
of  the  vicar  of  God.  As  this  grand  figure  stands  out  in  bold 
relief  from  all  that  t,ge  wbch  he  himself  inaugurated,  we 
must  be  allowed  to  give  a  sketch  of  his  character.  Gracious 
and  benign  in  his  manners — endowed  with  uncommon  personal 
beauty — warm  and  confiding  in  his  friendships — liberal  to 
excess  in  his  alms  and  in  his  foundations — an  eloquent  and 
persuasive  orator — a  learned  and  ascetic  writer* — a  poet  even, 
as  we  see  by  his  fine  prose.  Vent,  Sanete  Spiritus,  and  the 
Stabal  Mater,  that  sublime  elegy  composed  by  him — a  great 
and  profound  jurisconsult,  as  it  behoved  the  supreme  judge 
of  Christendom  to  be — the  zealous  protector  of  science  and 
of  Ohristian  literature — a  stem  disciplinarian,  vigorously 
enforcing  the  laws  and  the  discipline  of  the  Church — he  had 
every  quality  that  might  make  his  memory  illustrious,  had  he 
been  charged  with  the  government  of  the  Church  at  a  calm 
and  settled  period,  or  if  that  government  had  then  been  con< 
fined  to  the  exclusive  care  of  spiritual  things.  But  another 
mission  was  reserved  for  him.  Before  he  ascended  the  sacer- 
dotal throne,  he  had  understood,  and  even  published  in  his 
works,  the  end  and  destiny  of  the  supreme  Pontificate,  not 
only  for  the  salvation  of  souls  and  the  preservation  of  Catholic 
truth,  but  for  the  good  government  of  Cliristiau  society 
Nevertheless,  feeling  no  confidence  in  himself,  scarcely  is  he 
elected  when  he  earnestly  demands  of  all  the  priests  of  the 
Catholic  world  their  special  prayers  that  God  might  enlighten 
find  fortify  him  ;  God  heard  that  universal  prayer,  and  gave 


•  Bm  hit  SlfTHMfM  «id  V*  treatiiM  Ita  o#iil«mla  MMmA;  •■*  tk*  Am»  flMif 
t$HUalP*aimt,    . 


M 


tVTBODUOTIOV. 


v 


hiu  <ttrength  to  prosecute  and  to  accomplirfi  tlie  great  work 
of  St  Gregory  VII.  In  his  yonth,  whilst  stodying  in  the 
University  of  Paris,  he  had  made  a  pilg^mage  to  Oanterbnry, 
to  the  tomb  of  St.  Thomas  the  Martyr,  and  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  what  inspiration  there  was  for  him  in  those  sacred 
^rjics,  and  what  a  ferrent  zeal  he  conceited  for  the  freedom 
of  the  Chnrch,  whose  victorions  champion  he  afterwards  was. 
Bnt  whilst  he  was  defending  that  supreme  liberty,  the  consti- 
tution of  Europe  at  that  time  conferred  upon  him  the  glorious 
function  of  watching,  at  the  same  time,  over  all  the  interests 
3f  nations,  the  maintenance  of  their  rights,  and  the'fulfilmeni: 
of  all  their  duties.  He  was,  during  his  whole  reign  of  eighteen 
years,  at  the  very  height  of  that  gigantic  mission.  Though 
incessantly  menaced  and  opposed  by  his  own  subjects,  tl»e 
turbulent  people  of  Rome,  he  presided  over  the  Church  and 
the  Christian  world  with  immoveable  tranquillity,  with  cease- 
less and  minute  attention,  keeping  his  eye  on  every  part  as  a 
fiather  and  a  judge.  From  Ireland  to  Sicily,  from  Portugai 
to  Armenia,  no  law  of  the  Church  is  transgressed  but  he 
takes  it  up,  no  injury  is  inflicted  on  the  weak  but  he  demands 
reparation,  no  legitimate  security  is  assailed  but  he  protect? 
it.  For  him,  all  Christendom  is  but  one  majestic  unity,  but 
one  single  kingdom,  undivided  by  boundary  lines,  and  without 
any  distinction  of  races  ;  of  which  he  is,  without,  the  intrepid 
defender,  and,  within,  the  impartial  and  incorruptible  judge. 
To  shield  it  aga*  ^t  its  external  enemies,  be  arouses  the  failing 
ardour  of  the  Crusades  ;  he  shows  himself  inflamed,  beyond 
all  men,  with  that  holy  desire  to  battle  for  the  Cross,  which 
St.  Gregory  YII.  had  first  conceived,  and  which  had  animated 
all  the  Roman  Pontiffs  till  Pins  II.  died  a  Crusader.  The 
lieart  of  the  Popes  was  then,  as  it  were,  the  focus  whence  thai 
holy  zea]^adiated  over  all  the  Christian  nations  ;  their  eyei 
mere  ever  open  to  the  dangers  by  which  Europe  was  cnr- 
toanded,  and  whilst  Innocent  endeavoured,  every  year,  to 


IVTEODVCTIOS. 


19 


lend  «  CUrititian  army  agftinst  the  Tletorions  Saraoens  of  Um 
East,  in  the  North  he  propagated  the  faith  amongst  tha 
8<;lare8  and  Sarm&tianR,  and  iu  the  West,  urging  npon  tht 
Spanish  princes  the  necessity  of  concord  amongst  themselrea, 
and  a  decisive  effort  against  the  Moors,  he  directed  them  os 
Ao  tlicir  miracolons  Tictories.    He  brought  back  to  Catholie  » 
onity,  by  the  mere  force  of  persuasion,  and  the  anthority  of 
liis  great  character,  the  most  remote  kingdoms,  such  as  Ar* 
menia  and  Bulgaria,  which,  though  Tictorious  over  the  Latin 
amiiet,  hesitated  not  to  bow  to  the  decision  of  Innocent.    To 
a  lofty  and  indefatigable  zeal  for  truth,  he  well  knew  how  to 
join  the  highest  toleration  for  individuals  ;  be  protected  the 
Jews  against  the  exactions  of  their  princes  and  the  blind  fury 
of  their  fellow-citiTiens,  regarding  them  as  the  living  witnesses 
of  Christian  truth,  imitating  in  that  respect  all  his  predecessors^ 
without  one  exception.    He  even  corresponded  with  Mah<h 
metan  princes,  for  the  promotion  of  peace  and  their  salvation. 
While  struggling  with  rare  sagacity  and  unwearied  assiduity 
against  the  numberless  heresies  which  were  then  breaking 
out,  menacing  l^e  foundations  (tf  order,  social  and  moral,  he 
never  ceased  to  preach  clemency  and  moderation  to  the 
exasperated  and  victorious  Catholics,  and  even  to  the  Bishops 
themselves.    He  long  applies  himself  to  bring  about,  by 
mildness  and  conciliation,  the  reunion  of  the  Eastern  and 
Western  Churches ;  then,  when  the  unexpected  success  of  the 
fourth  Crusade,  overthrowing  the  empire  of  Byzantium,  had 
brought  under  his  dominion  that  erring  portion  of  the  Christian 
world,  and  thus  doubled  his  power,  he  recommends  mildness 
towards  the  conquered  Church,  and  far  from  expressing  a 
single  sentiment  of  joy  or  pride  on  hearing  of  that  conquest, 
he  refuses  to  have  any  share  in  the  glory  and  triumph  of  tha 
victors;  he  rejects  all  their  excuses,  all  their  pious  pretences, 
because,  in  their  undertaking,  they  had  violated  the  laws  of 
jistice,  and  forgotten  the  Sepulchre  of  Christ  I    It  is  thai 


18 


INTBODUCTIOH. 


(br  him  religion  and  justice  were  all,  and  that  with  them  hi 
identified  bis  life.  His  soul  was  inflamed  with  a  passionate 
love  of  Justice  which  no  exception  of  persons,  no  obstacle,  no 
check,  could  either  diminish  or  restrain  ;  counting  defeat  or 
■uccess  us  nothing,  when  right  was  at  stake — mild  and  mep> 
ciful  towards  the  vanquished  and  the  feeble — stern  and 
inflexible  towards  the  proud  and  the  mighty~-e  very  where 
and  always  the  protector  of  the  oppressed,  of  weakness,  and 
of  equity,  against  force  triumphant  and  unjust.  Thus  it  was 
that  he  was  seen  resolutely  defending  the  sanctity  of  the 
marriage  tie,  as  the  key  stone  of  society  and  of  Christian  life. 
No  outraged  wife  ever  implored  his  powerful  intervention  in 
vain.  The  world  beheld  him  with  admiration  struggling  for 
fifteen  years  against  his  friend  and  ally,  Philip  Augustus,  ill 
defence  of  the  rights  of  that  hapless  Ingerbnrge  who  had 
come  from  remote  Denmark  to  be  the  object  of  that  monarch's 
contempt.  Deserted  by  all,  shut  up  in  prison  without  one 
friend  in  that  foreign  land,  she  was  not  forgotten  by  the 
Pontiff,  who  at  length  succeeded  in  reseating  her  on  her 
husband's  throne,  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  people,  who 
exulted  in  the  thought  that  there  was,  even  in  this  world, 
equal  justice  for  all. 

It  was  in  the  same  spirit  that  he  watched,  with  paternal 
solicitude,  over  the  fate  of  royal  orphans,  the  lawful  heirs 
of  crowns,  and  that  even  in  countries  the  niost  remote.  We 
see  that  he  knew  how  to  maintain  the  rights  and  preserre 
the  patrimony  of  the  princes  of  Norway,  of  llolland,  and  of 
Armenia,  (1199,)  the  Infantas  of  Portugal,  the  young  king 
Ladislaus  of  Hungary,  and  even  to  the  sons  of  the  enemiei 
f»f  the  Church,  such  as  James  of  Arragon,  whose  father  had 
been  killed  fighting  for  the  heretics,  and  who,  being  himself 
the  prisoner  of  the  Catholic  army,  was  liberated  by  order  of 
Innocent ;  such,  also,  as  Frederic  II.,  sole  heir  of  the  imperial 
race  of  Qohenstaufen,  the  most  formidable  rival  of  the  Holj 


IHTKODUOTIOV. 


Ti 


Boe,  .'at  who,  being  left  an  orphan,  to  the  care  of  Innocent^ 
if  brought  up,  instructed,  defended  by  him,  and  maintained 
in  his  patrimony  with  the  affectionate  deyotion,  not  only  of  a 
guardian,  but  of  a  father.  But  still  more  admirable  does  bo 
appear  to  us,  when  offering  an  asylum,  near  his  throne,  to 
the  aged  Bnymond  de  Toulouse,  the  old  and  infeterate  > 
enemy  of  Catholicity,  with  his  young  son  ;  when  he  himself 
pleads  their  cause  against  the  Prelates  and  the  Tictorioos 
Crusaders  ;  when,  after  enriching  the  young  prince  with  his 
wise  and  loving  counsels,  after  seeking  in  vain  to  soften  his 
conquerors,  he  assigned  to  him,  notwithstanding  their  mur- 
murs, the  Earldom  of  Provence,  in  order  that  the  innocent 
son  of  a  guilty  father  might  not  be  left  without  some  inherit- 
ance. Is  it,  then,  surprising  that,  at  a  period  when  faith  was 
regarded  as  the  basis  of  ail  thrones,  and  when  justice,  thus 
personified,  was  seated  on  the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  kings  should 
seek  to  unite  tliemselves  to  it  as  closely  bb  they  could  ?  If 
the  valiant  Peter  of  Arragon  thought  he  could  not  better 
secure  the  young  independence  of  his  crown  than  by  crossing 
the  sea  to  lay  it  at  the  feet  of  Innocent,  and  to  receive  it  as  > 
a  vassal  from  his  hand — if  John  of  England,  pursued  by  the 
just  indignation  of  his  people,  also  proclaims  himself  the 
vassal  of  that  Church  which  he  had  so  cruelly  persecuted, 
sure  of  finding  there  that  refuge  and  that  pardon  which  men 
denied  him — or  if,  besides  those  two  kingdoms,  those  of 
Navarre,  of  Portugal,  of  Scotland,  'S>^  Hungary,  and  of  Den- 
mark, gloried  in  belonging,  in  some  measure,  to  the  Holy  See 
by  a  special  bond  of  protection  ?  It  was  known  to  all  that 
Innocent  respected  the  rights  of  kings,  in  regard  to  the 
Church,  as  he  did  those  of  the  Church  herself  against  kings 
Like  hia  illustrious  predecessors,  he  united  to  his  love  of- 
eqnity  a  lofty  and  sagacious  policy.  Like  them,  by  opposing 
the  heirship  of  the  empire  in  the  house  of  Suabia,  by  main* 
laining  the  (freedom  of  elections  in  Germany,  he  saved  that 


10  urmoouOTioii. 

toble  country  from  monarchical  centraliiatUm,  which  wonM 
have  chADgcd  its  whole  nature,  and  stifled  the  germs  of  that 
prodigious  intellectaal  fecundity  of  which  she  is  justly  proud. 
Like  them,  by  re-establishing  and  steadfastly  defending  tha 
temporal  aiitlrarity  of  the  Holy  See,  he  preserved  tbj 
independence  of  Italy,  as  well  as  that  of  the  Church.  lb 
formed,  by  his  precepts  and  his  example,  a  whole  generation 
of  Pontifls,  equally  devoted  to  that  independence,  and  worthy 
of  being  his  auxiliaries.  Such  were  Stephen  Langton  in 
England,  Henry  of  Gnesen  in  Poland,  and  Roderick  of 
Toledo  in  Spain,  Fonlquet  of  Toulonse,  in  the  midst  of  here* 
tics  ;  or  worthy  of  dying  for  that  holy  canse^  like  St.  Peter 
Parentice,  and  Peter  de  Castelneaa.*  The  glorious  life  oC 
Innocent  III.  terminates  with  the  famons  Council  of  LateraOi 
(1215,)  which  he  conducted  and  presided  over  ;  in  which  aH 
the  relations  of  the  Church  were  made  fast ;  in  which  the 
judgment  of  Qod^  having  degenerated  into  an  abuse  of  force, 
were  definitely  abolished ;  in  which  the  paschal  communion 
was  prescribed  ;  in  which  was  established  that  criminal  pro> 
cessf  which  has  served  as  a  model  for  all  secular  tribnnals ; 
finally,  wherein  were  introdnced,  so  to  speak,  to  the  Chrlstiatt 
world,  those  two  great  orders  of  St.  Dominick  and  St.  Francis, 
which  were  to  infuse  into  it  a  new  life.  Innocent  had  tha 
glory  and  the  consolation  of  seeing  both  these  illustrioiM 
orders  spring  up  under  bis  Pontificate.  | 

The  successors  of  this  great  Pope  were  not  unworthy  of 
him,  and  exhibited^  for  upwards  of  half  a  century,  the  sublime 
spectacle  of  a  struggle  sustained,  with  faith  and  justice  alone, 


I 
I 


*  KWed  bj  the  beretlos,  tbe  fonner  at  Orvtoto,  In  119t ;  the  latter  In  T|«rt"t^i*H 

.   t  Id  the  eighth  canon  of  this  eoaneil. 

X  It  is  well  known  that  M.  Hurter  a  Proteatant  writer,  has,  by  hts  tAf«  of  Intuit 
»*ni  in.  WAi  hit  ConimtporoHM,  raised  a  monument  to  tbe  glorj  ot  that 
Vtetlff  a«d  tbe  Cbarob,  and  merits  tbe  gratitnde  of  vfwj  Mend  oftntk 


IKTRODUCTIOW. 


3h  wonU 
8  of  that 

17  proud, 
iding  tbt 
rved  tbj 
rch.  lit 
eneratioa 
d  worthy 
mgton  in 
lerick  of 
b  of  here* 
St.  Peter 

18  life  of 
Lateran, 
wliioh  aH 
rhich  th« 
)  of  force, 
)mmiiiiioii 
ninal  pro* 
;ribaiial8 ; 
Ghristiaa 
>.  Franela, 
,  had  the 
illustrioui 

rorihy  of 
e  sublime 
;ice  alone, 


of  that 

iBtk 


•gainst  all  the  resourccM  uf  gcniiw  and  of  human  power,  eon 
ceiitratcd  in  the  Euipcror  Frederic  II.,  and  employed  for  tht 
•uc«3«88  of  material  force.  Ilonorlus  III.  has  first  to  contend 
with  that  ungrateful  ward  of  the  Holy  See.  Mild  and 
patient,  he  seemi  placed  between  two  titern  and  inflexibk 
combatants,  Innocent  III.  and  Gregory  IX.,  as  if  to  show 
how  far  Ai)08tolical  meekness  may  go.  He  preached  to 
kings  his  own  gentleneas  ;  he  exhaU8ted  his  ti'easury  to  furnish 
the  expenses  of  the  Crusade.  He  had  the  happiness  of  con< 
firming  the  tliree  holy  orders  which  were,  in  some  manner,  to 
revive  the  fire  of  charity  and  faith  in  tlie  heart  of  Christian 
nations;  the  Dominicans  (1226),  the  Franciscans  (1223), 
and  the  Carmelites  (1226).  Notwithstanding  his  mildness, 
he  was  forced  to  place  the  Emperor  for  the  first  time  under 
the  ban  of  the  Church,  leaving  Gregory  IX.  to  carry  on  the 
contest.  The  latter,  who  was  eighty  yeara  old  when  his  brow 
was  encircled  with  the  tiara  (1227),  showed,  during  his  reign 
of  fifteen  years,  the  most  indomitable  enei;gy,  as  though  he 
grew  young  again  in  becoming  the  depository  of  the  delegated 
power  of  the  Eternal.  He  it  was  who  was  the  friend  and 
protector  of  that  St.  Elizabeth  who  has  brought  us  to  the 
stndy  of  this  age  ;  he  made  her  acquainted  with  St.  Francis 
of  Assisium,  whose  heroic  virtue  she  well  knew  how  to  imi- 
tate ;  he  protected  her  in  her  widowhood  and  cruel  desertion ; 
and  when  God  had  called  her  to  Himself,  he  proclaimed  her 
right  to  the  perpetual  veneration  of  the  faithful,  and  placed 
her  name  upon  the  calendar.  But  he  was,  also,  the  protector 
of  the  helpless  and  the  oppressed  in  every  rank  of  life  ;  and, 
wliilst  he  gave  his  support  to  the  royal  widow  of  Thuringia, 
oe  extended  his  paternal  solicitude  over  the  meanest  serfs  oC 
:3niotest  Christendom,  as  shown  by  his  letter  to  the  Polish 
uobles,  wherein  he  bitterly  reproaches  them  for  wearing  away 
tlie  life  of  their  vassals,  redeemed  and  ennobled  by  the  blood 
»f  Christ,  in  training  falcons  or  birdd  of  prey.    The  zeakMM 


mrRoouoTioir. 


ftriend  of  true  science,  he  founds  the  Unirenity  of  ToulooM^ 
and  has  that  of  I'aris  re-eMtablishcd  by  St.  Louis,  not  without 
a  wise  protest  agauist  the  encroachments  of  profane  philoso 
phy  on  theology.  By  the  collection  of  the  Decrees,  he  ha» 
the  glory  of  giving  the  Church  her  code,  wliich  was  then  tliaf 
of  Hociety  at  large.  The  worthy  nephew  of  Innocent  III.,  he 
always  know  how  to  unite  justice  and  firmness  ;  being  recon- 
ciled with  Frederic  II.,  after  having  at  one  time  excommuni- 
cated him,  he  sustained  him  with  noble  impartiality  against 
the  revolt  of  his  son,  Henry  (1235),  and  even  against  the 
exacting  demands  of  the  Lombard  cities,  though  they  were 
the  most  faithful  allies  of  the  Church  (1237).  When  the 
Emperor  subsequently  violates  his  most  solemn  engagements, 
and  that  he  is  once  more  obliged  to  excommunicate  him,  how 
laeautifni  it  In  tu  see  that  old  man,  almost  an  hondred-y»are 
and  ha  i»  onoe  nioie  ub'.iged  tu  exfomimiuiuate  hinr—how 
beautiful  it  is  to  see  that  old  man,  almost  an  hundred  yean 
old,  bracing  himself  up  for  a  desperate  struggle,  yet  charging 
V  be  most  careful  of  the  prisoners  ;  then,  when  conquered  and 
abandoned  by  all,  besieged  in  Rome  by  Frederic,  leagued  with 
the  Romans  themselves  against  him,  he  finds  at  that  terrible 
moment,  and  In  the  bo^om  of  human  weakness,  that  strength 
which  belongs  but  to  things  divine.  Taking  forth  the  relics 
of  the  holy  Apostles,  he  has  them  carried  in  procession 
through  the  city,  and  demands  of  the  Romans  whether  they 
'vill  permit  that  sacred  deposit  to  perish  before  their  eyes, 
since  he  could  no  longer  defend  them  without  their  assis^ 
ance  ;  immediately  their  heart  is  touched  -  thoy  vwear  t« 
conquer  or  die  for  their  holy  Pontiff — ^the  Eir  'erv »  '  pulsed, 
and  the  Chnrch  delivered. 

After  him  came  Innocent  IV.,  (1242,)  who,  though  ip 
to  ih-i  viTy  moment  of  his  election  a  friend  and  .partisan  of 
Fred^v!0.  is  no  sooner  elected  than  he  sacrifices  all  his  former 
lie*  to  the  »v^a«t  mj^ion  confided  to  him,  and  that  admirable 


iMTIOOUOTlOlf. 


ToulooM^ 
ot  withoat 
Be  philosa 
;e8,  he  ha> 
tbeii  tltaf 
Dt  in.,  he 
ling  recoil- 
Kcomrouni* 
ity  against 
gainst  the 
they  were 
When  the 
;agemeiitP 
I  him,  how 
Elfe<J-y4*ar8 
'hiin^~~hoif 
idred  yean 
it  charging 
aered  and 
kgncd  with 
at  terrible 
>t  strength 
1  the  relics 
procession 
jther  tliey 
their  eyes, 
eir  assist- 
•wear  t« 
^  rt'pnlsec!, 

hongh  vip 
artisan  of 
bis  former 
admirabit 


unity  of  pnrpote  which  hml  for  two  hundred  yenrii  aninnnt^ 
all  hit  predocoMors.  Pui^'outed,  tnenacud,  Mhut  np  between 
('  d  Imperial  coliimnn  width,  fnrn  rierinnny  in  the  north,  and 
Sicily  in  the  aouth,  gather  u.  'Ufid  tli«  J^^^oincd  city  which  ia 
now  his  pHAOu.  lie  must  ftideavOxtf  to  em^ape.  Where  i^  h« 
to  find  an  asylum  f  Every  sovereign  in  Kurope,  even  St, 
Louis,  refuses  to  receive  him.  Happily,  Lyon^  is  fiO(%  ana 
iK'longs  only  to  an  independent  Aruhbi«l,  p.  Tli  re  Innocent 
■KscmMca  all  the  Bishops  who  could  oscn]^>  from  the  tyrant, 
nnl  }ib  venerable  brotliers,  the  Cardinals;  to  the  latter  he 
L'^ives  the  scarlet  hat,  to  denote  that  they  should  always  be 
roady  to  shed  their  blood  for  the  Church ;  an  I  then,  ftroin 
that  supreme  tribunal  which  Frederic  had  himself  invoked 
uiid  recognised,  and  before  which  his  advocates  came  sol- 
eumly  to  plead  his  cause,  the  fugitive  Pontiff  1  ilminates, 
against  the  most  powerful  sovereign  of  that  time,  the  sen- 
tence of  deposition,  as  the  oppressor  of  religious  liberty,  the 
spoiler  of  the  Chnrch,  a  heretic  and  a  tyrant.  Glorii  ns  and 
ever-memorable  triumph,  of  right  over  might — of  faith  over 
material  interest ! — The  third  act  of  that  sacred  urama, 
wherein  St.  Gregory  VII.  and  Alexander  III.  had  already 
trampled  under  foot  the  rebellions  element,  amid  the  accla* 
mations  of  saints  and  men  t  We  all  know  how  Proviaence 
took  upon  itself  the  ratification  of  this  sentence  ;  we  are 
familiar  with  the  fall  of  Frederic  and  his  latter  years,  the 
premature  death  of  his  son,  and  the  total  ruin  of  that  formi* 
dable  race;. 

As  an  admirable  proof  of  the  entire  confidence  placed 
in  the  integrity  of  the  Holy  See,  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that, 
as  Frederic  himself  was  left,  when  an  orphan,  in  his  cr»> 
die,  to  the  care  of  Innocent  III.,  so  the  friends  and  allies 
of  his  granfison,  Conradine,  the  last  of  the  bouse  of  Snabift, 
would  not  iutrnst  him  to  any  other  guardian  than  the  very 
Pontif  who  had  deposed  his  grandaire ;  and  who  managed 


IflTBODUOTIOS. 


bis  trast  loyally  and  well,  till  it  was  torn  from  liifl  grafp  h§ 
ike  perfidious  Mainfroy. 

The  straggle  continues  against  the  latter,  and  all  the  othei 
enemies  of  the  Church,  carried  on  with  the  same  intrepidity, 
the  same  perseverance,  under  Alexander  lY.,  (1254,)  a  worthy 
descendant  of  that  family  of  Conti,  which  had  already  given 
to  the  world  Innocent  III.  and  Gregory  IX.;  and  after  him, 
under  Urban  IT.,  (1261,)  that  shoemaker's  son  who,  far 
from  being  ashamed  of  his  origin,  had  his  father  painted  on 
the  church  windows  of  Troyes,  working  at  his  trade  ;  who 
had  the  honour  of  providing  a  new  aliment  for  Catholic  piety 
by  instituting  the  Feast  of  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  (1264) ; 
and  who,  unshaken  in  the  midst  of  the  gieatest  dangers,  dies, 
not  knowing  where  to  rest  his  head,  but  leaving  to  the 
Church  the  protection  of  the  brother  of  St.  Louis,  and  a 
French  monarchy  in  the  Sicilies.  This  conquest  is  completed 
under  Clement  lY.,  who^sues  in  vain  for  the  life  of  Couradine, 
the  innocent  and  expiatory  victim  of  the  crimes  of  his  family. 
And  thus  ends  for  a  while  that  noble  war  of  the  Church 
against  State  oppression,  which  was  to  be  renewed  with  far 
different  results,  but  not  less  gloriously,  under  Boniface  YIII. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that,  whilst  these  great  Pontiffs 
were  carrying  on  this  warfare  to  the  very  utmost,  far  from 
being  wholly  engrossed  by  it,  they  gave  to  the  internal  organi- 
zation  of  the  Church,  and  of  society,  as  much  attention  as 
though  they  were  in  a  state  of  profound  peace.  They  con- 
tinued, one  after  another,  with  invincible  perseverance,  the 
colossal  work  wherewith  they  were  charged  since  the  fall  of 
the  Roman  empire — the  work  of  grinding  and  kneading 
together  all  the  divers  elements  of  those  Germanic  and  north- 
em  tribes  who  had  overrun  and  conquered  Europe,  distin- 
guishing therein  all  that  was  good,  pure,  and  salutary,  in 
order  to  sanctify  and  civilize  it,  and  rejecting  all  that  wai 
tralf  barbarous     At  the  Mune  time,  and  with  the  lamv  ^od 


IVTROOOOTIOV. 


0  grafp  by 

\\1  the  othei 
intrepidity, 
l,)awortbj 
ready  given 
d  after  him, 
in  who,  far 
painted  on 
trade  ;  who 
btholic  piety 
ent(1264); 
angers,  dies, 
ins:   to   the 
ouiB,  and  a 
8  completed 
'  Couradine, 
'  his  family, 
the  Chnrch 
ed  with  far 
lifaceVIII 
at  Pontiffs 
it,  far  from 
rnal  organi- 
ttention  as 
They  con- 
erance,  the 
the  fall  of 
kneading 
and  north- 
ope,  distin- 
ialntary,  in 
1  that  wai 
same 


itancy,  did  they  propagate  science  and  learning,  placing  tb«v 
within  reach  of  all ;  they  consecrated  the  natural  equality  ot 
the  human  race,  calling  to  th|  highest  dignities  of  the  CharcL 
men  born  ii  the  lowest  classes,  for  whatever  little  learning  00 
virtue  they  might  have  ;  they  fabricated  and  promnlgaied 
the  magnificent  code  of  ecclesiastical  legislation,  and  that 
clerical  jurisdiction,  the  benefits  of  which  were  the  more  sen* 
sibly  felt,  inasmuch  as  it  alone  knew  neither  torture  nor  any 
cruel  punishment,  and  that  it  alone  made  no  exception  of 
persons  amongst  Christians. 

It  is  true  that,  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  which  had 
such  chiefs,  many  human  miseries  were  found  mixed  up  witk 
80  much  greatness  and  sanctity  ;  it  will  always  be  so  whilsi 
things  divine  are  intrusted  to  mortal  hands  ;  but  we  may  be 
allowed  to  doubt  whether  there  was  less  at  any  other  period^ 
and  whether  the  rights  of  Qod  and  those  of  humanity  were 
defended  with  nobler  courage,  or  by  more  illustrious  chanv* 
■pions. 

In  front  of  that  majestic  Church  arose  the  second  power, 
before  which  the  men  of  those  times  bent  in  homage ;  thai 
Holy  Roman  Empire,  from  which  all  secondary  royaltiot 
eeemed  to  flow.  Unhappily,  since  the  end  of  the  Saxon 
dynasty,  in  the  eleventh  century,  it  had  passed  into  the  hand! 
of  two  families,  in  whom  the  great  and  pious  spirit  of  Chari 
lemagne  was  gradually  extinguished — those  of  Franconia  and 
Suabia.  These  substituted  a  new  spirit,  impatient  of  all 
spiritual  restraint,  glorying  only  in  the  force  of  arms  and  the 
feudal  system,  and  always  aiming  at  the  amalgamation  of  the 
two  powers, absorbing  the  Church  in  the  Empire.  That  fatal 
purpose,  defeated  by  St.  Gregory  VII.,  in  the  person  of 
Henry  IV.,  and  by  Alexander  III.  in  that  of  Frederick 
l^arbarossa,  made  a  new  effort  in  Frederick  II.;  but  he,  too^ 
found  his  conquerors  on  the  chair  of  St.  Peter.  This  Frede- 
rick II.  occupied  all  that  half-centnry  which  hii  reign  ahaMMl 
3 


16  IXTRODUCTIOV. 

wholly  embraces.*  It  seems  to  os  impossible,  even  Tor  th« 
mostprcjndiced  mind,  not  to  be  struck  by  the  immense  differ- 
ence between  the  commencement  of  his  reign,  in  the  dnya 
when  he  was  faithful  to  the  Roman  Church,  which  had  so 
carefully  watched  over  his  minority,t  and  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life,  during  which  the  glory  of  his  earlier  ycani 
was  tarnished  and  their  high  promise  cruelly  blighted.  No> 
thing  could  be  more  splendid,  more  poetical,  more  grand,  than 
that  imperial  court  presided  over  by  a  young  and  gallant 
prince,  endowed  with  every  noble  quality  both  of  mind  and 
body — an  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  arts,  of  poetry,  and  of 
literature  ;  himself  acquainted  with  six  languages,  and  well 
versed  in  many  of  the  sciences  ;  bestowing  on  the  kingdom 
of  Sicily,  whilst  the  Pope  crowned  him  in  Rome,  (1220,)  a 
code  of  laws  the  wisest  and  best  framed,  and  altogether  re- 
markable for  their  perfection  ;  and  subsequently,  after  his 
first  reconciliation  with  the  Holy  See,  publishing  at  Mayence 
the  first  laws  that  Germany  had  had  in  its  own  tongue  ;  gatli- 
ering  around  him  the  flower  of  the  chivalry  of  his  vast  domin* 
ions,  giving  them  the  example  of  valour  and  poetic  genius  in 
the  royal  halls  of  Sicily,  wherein  were  brought  together  the 
divers  elements  of  Germanic,  Italian  and  Eastern  civilization. 
It  was  this  very  mixture  that  caused  his  ruin.  He  would 
have  been,  says  a  chronicler  of  those  times,  without  an  equal 
on  earth,  had  he  hut  loved  his  own  soul,  but  he  had  an  unfor- 
tunate predilection  for  Eastern  life.  He  who  was  at  one  time 
thought  of  as  a  husband  for  St.  Elizabeth,  when  she  was  left 
a  widow,  and  who  was  actually  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  St. 
.Agnes  of  Bohemia,!  soon  after  shut  himself  up  in  a  disgraceful 


•  King  of  Sicily  in  1198;  Emperor  in  1815;  died  In  12S0. 

t  Innocent  IH.,  Ilonorius  III.,  and  Gregory  IX.,  liad,  all  three,  &  share  in  '\it\af- 
iBf  him  up -the  first  as  Pope,  and  the  other  two  as  Cardinals. 

X  She  refiised  liim  in  order  to  become  a  Fmnciscan  nun;  the  Bmperer,  •» 
hawing  it,  said:  "If  she  ha<l  preferred  any  other  man  to  me,  I  would  Iftve  Xnm 
iweafed);  bat  ainoe  site  haa  only  preferred  God,  I  eui  aay  Botlilnf  .'* 


IlTTRODUOTIOir 


0 


,  tbare  in  l-rtn^ 


lerafjlio,  sorroanded  by  Saracen  gaard».  By  the  siie  of  thii 
moral  sensualism,  be  speedily  proclaims  a  sort  of  political 
materialism  which  was,  at  least,  premature  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  He  shocks  all  the  ideaf  of  Christianity,  by  going 
to  the  Holy  Sepulchre  as  the  ally  of  the  Mussulman  princes, 
Rnd  no  longer  as  the  conqueror  of  the  Holy  Land.  On  hit 
return  to  Europe,  not  satisfied  with  the  magnificent  position 
of  a  Christian  Emperor,  the  first  amongst  the  mighty  and  the 
powerful,  and  not  the  master  of  a  multitude  of  slaves — ^the 
protector  of  the  Church,  and  not  her  oppressor,  he  begins  to 
scatter  amongst  men  the  seeds  of  those  fatal  doctriues  which 
have  since  borne  but  too  abundant  fruit.  Intoxicated  by  the 
height  of  his  power,  like  Louis  XIV.  and  Napoleon  In  after 
times,  he  could  not  endure  the  intervention  of  spiritual  power; 
and  he  caused  his  Chancellor,  Peter  des  Yignes,  to  proclaim 
that  the  disposal  of  all  things,  both  human  and  divine,  be* 
longed  of  right  to  the  Emperor.  That  age,  however,  was 
still  too  Christian  to  tolerate  such  an  invasion  of  the  vitaf 
force  of  Christianity.  A  far  different  spirit  was  then  required, 
even  in  the  lay  power,  to  govern  minds  and  convictions ;  such 
was  found  in  St.  Louis  of  France.  Hence,  we  see  this  Fred- 
eric, who,  according  to  that  holy  king,  had  made  war  on  Ow» 
with  his  own  gifts,  stricken  with  the  anathemas  of  the  Church, 
progressing  every  day  in  cruelty,  perfidy,  and  duplicity;*  load* 
iiig  his  people  with  fines  and  taxes  ;  giving  every  reason  to 
doubt  his  faith  by  his  excessive  debauchery,  and,  finally,  dying 
in  retirement  at  the  extreme  end  of  Italy,  smothered  by  hig 
own  son,  in  the  very  midst  of  his  Saracens,  whose  attachment 
only  served  to  make  him  suspected  by  Christians.  Under  hit 
reign,  as  under  those  of  his  predecessors,  Germany  (which, 
indeed,  Mw  but  little  of  him)  was  in  a  flourishing  condition ; 


*  For  ii  ivtanoe,  the  tortnre  Inflietad  on  the  mii  of  th«  Doge  Tlepolo,  on  th«  BislMf 
•(  Areuo,  and  ths  Imprisonment  of  the  Cardionts  «'bo  rei>airad  to  tlie  OooBitf 
wUdi  bimMlf  bad  demanded. 


t8 


iffif* 


IVf BODUCTXO*. 


8).e  saw  the  power  of  the  Wittelsbachs  grow  in  Bavaria  ;  ^he 
admired  the  splcndoar  of  the  Aastrian  priaces, — Frederii;  the 
Victorious,  and  Leopold  the  Qlorioos,  whv)  was  said  to  Im) 
brave  09  a  lion^  and  modesf^as  a  young  virgin;  she  extolled 
the  Tirluos  of  the  house  of  Thoringia,  under  the  father-in-law 
and  the  husband  of  St.  Elizabeth;  she  saw  in  the  Archbishop 
Eogelbert  of  Cologne  a  martyr  to  justice  and  public  safety, 
whom  the  Church  hastened  to  enrol  amongst  her  Saints.  licr 
(Hties,  like  those  of  the  Low  Countries,  were  developing  theui- 
selves  with  a  mighty  and  a  fruitful  individuality;  Cologne  and 
Lubeck  were  at  the  height  of  their  influence,  and  the  famous 
Hanse  league  was  beginning  to  be  formed.  Her  legislation 
was  grandly  developed  under  the  two  dynasties  of  Saxony 
and  Suabia,  together  with  a  number  of  other  local  codes,  all 
based  on  respect  for  established  rights  and  ancient  liberties, 
and  breathing  such  a  noble  mixture  of  the  Christian  thought 
with  the  elements  of  old  Germanic  right,  yet  unaltered  by 
the  Ghibeliae  importation  of  the  Roman  right.  In  fine,  she 
already  reckoned  amongst  her  knights  a  true  Christian  mon- 
arch ;  for,  under  the  shadow  of  the  throne  of  the  Hoheu- 
staufeus,  there  was  silently  springing  up,  in  the  person  of 
Elodolph  of  Hapsburgh,  a  prince  worthy  to  be  the  founder 
of  an  imperial  race,  since  he  saved  his  country  from  anarchy, 
and  displayed  to  the  world  a  fitting  representative  of  Charle- 
magne. It  is  easy  to  guess  what  his  reign  must  be,  when,  at 
his  consecration,  finding  no  sceptre,  he  seized  the  crucifix  on 
the  altar,  and  exclaimed,  "  Behold  my  sceptre  I  I  want  no 
other." 

If  the  Empire  seemed  to  have  departed  fiom  its  natural 
course,  it  was  in  some  measure  replaced  by  France,  who  took 
from  her  that  character  of  sanctity  and  grandeur  which  was 
to  shed  so  much  lustre  on  the  Most  Christian  monarchy.  Yet 
ihe  herself  contained  within  her  bosom  a  deep  wound  which 
must  be  healed  at  any  cost,  if  she  would  maintain  her  unity, 


IVTROOfJOTlOV. 


Mkl  dairy  ont  her  high  destiny.    We  a.lade  to  tliat  nest  of 
heresies  both  anti-social  and  anti-religioas  which  disgraced  the 
soath,  and  had  its  seat  amongst  those  rwrupt  masses  known  to 
history  as  the  Albigenses.    The  world  is  now  well  acquainted 
with  the  character  and  the  doctrines  of  those  men,  who  were 
worthily  represented  by  princes  whose  debaucheries  make  ni 
shadder,  and  who  have  been  so  long  extolled  by  lying  historians 
at  the  expense  of  religion  and  trath.   It  is  well  known  that  they 
were  at  least  as  much  persecutors  as  they  were  persecuted; 
and  that  they  were  the  aggressors  against  the  common  law  of 
society  at  that  time.    Not  only  France,  bat  even  Spain  and 
Italy,  would  have  been  then  lost  to  faith  and  tme  civilization, 
if  the  Crusade  had  not  been  victoriously  preached  against  that 
iniquitous  centre  of  Pagan  and  Oriental  doctrines.    There  it 
no  doubt  that,  in  putting  down  that  rebellion  against  Ghrii^ 
tianity,  means  were  too  often  employed  which  Christian  charic) 
could  not  approve,  and  which  were  censured  by  the  Holy  See 
even  at  the  height  <^  l^at  fierce  contest.     But  it  is  now 
icknowledged  that  tliose  cruelties  were,  at  least,  reciprocal; 
and  no  one  has  yet,  as  far  as  we  know,  devised  the  means  of 
making  war,  and  especially  religions  war,  with  mildness  and 
lenity.     It  is  tnie  that  Simon  de  Montfort,  who  was,  during 
that  terrible  struggle,  the  champion  of  Catholicity,  did  some- 
what tarnish  his  glory  by  a  too  great  ambition  and  a  severity 
which  we  cannot  excuse ;  bat  enough  remains  to  warrant 
Catholics  in  publishing  his  praise.    There  are  few  characters 
in  history  so  great  as  his,  whether  in  energy,  perseverance, 
courage,  or  contempt  of  death;  and  when  we  think  of  the 
fervour  and  humility  of  his  piety,  the  inviolable  purity  of  hii 
morals,  with  that  inflexible  devotion  to  ecclesiastical  authority, 
which  made  him  retire  alone  from  the  camp  of  the  Crusaders' 
before  Zara,  because  the  Pope  had  forbidden  him  to  make  war 
on  Christians,  we  may  then  make  allowance  for  his  feelingi 
towards  those  who  disturbed  the  peace  of  Gonscienoes  an/ 


80 


IMTBODUOTIOV. 


overtorned  all  the  barriera  of  morality.  His  own  charactH 
and  that  of  his  age  are  conjointly  depicted  in  the  words  which 
he  pronounced  when  aboot  to  undertake  an  unequal  contest 
"The  whole  Church  prays  for  me — I  cannot  fail.''  And  again, 
when  pursued  by  the  enemy,  and  having,  with  bis  cavalry, 
crossed  a  river  which  the  infantry  could  not  pass,  he  went 
back  again  with  five  men  only,  crying  out:  **  The  little  onef 
of  Christ  are  exposed  to  death,  and  shall  I  remain  in  safety  f 
Let  Qod's  will  be  done — I  must  certainly  stay  with  them." 

The  decisive  battle  of  Muret  (1212),  which  secured  the 
triumph  of  faith,  likewise  shows  the  nature  of  that  struggle, 
by  the  contrast  of  the  two  leaders;  on  the  one  side,  de  Mont- 
brt,  at  the  head  of  a  handful  of  men,  seeking  in  prayer  and 
jhe  sacraments  the  right  of  demanding  a  victory,  which  could 
only  come  by  miracle;  on  the  other,  Peter  of  Arragon,  coming 
there,  enfeebled  by  debauchery,  to  fight  and  be  slain  in  the 
midst  of  his  numerous  army. 

Whilst  this  struggle  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  preparing 
for  the  direct  reunion  of  the  conquered  provinces  with  the 
crown  of  France,  a  king  worthy  of  his  surname — Philip  Au- 
gustus— was  investing  that  crown  with  the  first  rays  of  that 
glory  and  that  moral  influence,  "  based  on  religion,"  which  it 
was  so  long  to  maintain.  While  still  young,  he  was  asked 
what  it  was  that  occupied  his  mind  during  his  long  and  fre- 
quent reveries?  "I  am  thinking,''  he  replied,  "of  the  meani 
of  restoring  to  France  the  power  and  the  glory  which  she  had 
under  Charlemagne,'^  and  during  his  long  and  glorious  reign 
be  never  ceased  to  show  himself  faithful  to  that  great  thought. 
The  reunion  of  Normandy  and  the  provinces,  wrested  away  by 
«the  unprincipled  John  Lackland,  laid  the  first  foundation  of 
the  power  of  the  French  monarchs.  After  having  done  hia 
best  for  th'^  cause  of  Christ  in  the  Crusades,  he  showed  him* 
jelf,  during  his  whole  life,  the  friend  and  faithful  supporter  of 
the  Church;  and  he  proved  it  by  the  most  pamful  aacrifice^ 


IWTRODCCTIOir. 


31 


[  charactM 
ords  wbich 
al  contest 
A.nd  again, 
is  cavalry, 
s,  he  went 
little  onef 
in  safety  f 
1  them." 
ecured  the 
,t  straggle, 
J,  de  Mont- 
prayer  and 
rhich  could 
;on,  coming 
lain  in  the 

[  preparing 
s  with  the 
Philip  An- 
lys  of  that 
"  which  it 
was  asked 
ig  and  fre- 
the  meang 
eh  she  had 
rious  reign 
it  thought, 
d  away  by 
[idation  of 

done  hie 
owed  him* 
pporter  of 

Bacrificci 


hi  OTercoming  his  rooted  aversion  for  the  wife  whom  Romt 
imposed  upon  him.  Reconciled  with  his  people  through  his 
reconciliation  with  her,  he  soon  after  received  his  reward  fh>m 
heaven,  in  the  great  victory  of  i5on vines  (1215;)  a  victory  as 
much  religious  as  national,  obtained  over  the  enemies  of  the 
Church  as  over  those  of  France.  This  is  sufficiently  proved 
by  all  that  historians  have  transmitted  to  us,  regarding  the 
impious  projects  of  the  confederates,  who  were  all  excommu- 
nicated— by  the  fervent  prayers  of  the  priests  during  the  bat- 
tle, and  by  the  noble  words  of  Philip  to  his  soldiers — "The 
Church  prays  for  us:  I  am  going  to  fight  for  her,  for  France, 
and  for  you."  Around  him  fought  all  the  heroes  of  French 
chivalry — ^Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  Enguerrand  de  Coucy, 
Quillaume  dcs  Barres,  and  Guerin  de  Senlis,  at  the  same  time 
pontiff,  minister,  and  warrior.  The  enemy  being  defeated,  they 
joined  their  king  in  founding,  in  honour  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
the  abbey  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Yictoire,  intended  to  consecrate, 
by  the  name  of  the  Virgin,  the  memory  of  a  triumph  which 
had  saved  the  independence  of  France. 

The  greatness  of  the  French  Monarchy,  and  its  sway  over 
the  southern  provinces  which  it  was  finally  to  absorb,  contin- 
ued to  increase  under  the  short  but  prosperons  reign  of  Louis 
VIII.,  and  under  the  brilliant  regency  of  Blanche  of  Castile 
— that  most  tender  mother  and  wise  sovereign — who  said  she 
would  rather  see  all  her  children  dead  than  to  know  them, 
to  be  guilty  of  one  mortal  sin,  and  who  was  tot  less  solicitous 
for  their  temporal  than  their  spiritual  welfare,  Blanche,  the 
worthy  object  of  the  romantic  love  of  Thibaut  de  Champagne, 
the  poet-king,  and  who  had  such  a  tender  devotion  for  our  St 
Elizabeth.  Tiiis  regency  worthily  announces  the  reign  of  St 
Louis,  that  model  of  kings,  to  whom  the  historian's  mind  re*' 
verts  as,  perhaps,  the  most  accomplished  personage  of  modem 
times,  whilst  the  Christian  venerates  him  as  having  possessed 
svery  v  trtuo  that  can  merit  heaven.  While  reading  the  history 


INIftODUCTIOV. 


of  that  life,  at  once  so  touching  and  so  soblime,  we  ask  if  evef 
the  King  of  heaven  liad  on  earth  a  more  faithful  servant  thaa 
that  angel,  crowned  for  a  time  with  a  mortal  crown,  in  order 
to  show  the  world  how  man  can  transfigure  himself  by  charitj 
and  faith.  What  Christian  heart  is  there  that  does  not  throb 
with  admiration,  while  considering  the  character  of  St  Louis? 
— that  sense  of  duty  so  strong  and  so  pure,  that  lofty  and  most 
scrupulous  love  of  justice,  that  exquisite  delicacy  of  conscience, 
which  iuduced  him  to  repudiate  t\e  unlawful  acqui'^itions  of  hii 
predecessors,  even  at  the  expense  of  the  public  safety,  and  tlie 
aflfection  of  his  subjects — that  unbounded  love  of  his  neigh- 
bour,  which  filled  his  whole  heart;  which,  after  pouring  itself 
out  on  his  beloved  wife,  his  mother  and  his  brothers,  whose 
death  he  so  bitterly  mourned,  extended  itself  to  all  classes  of 
his  subjects,,  inspired  him  with  a  tender  solicitude  for  the  soula, 
of  others,  and  conducted  him  in  his  leisure  moments  to  the 
cottage  of  the  poor,  whom  he  himself  relieved!  Yet,  with  all 
these  saintly  virtues,  he  was  brave  even  to  rashness;  he  was  at. 
once  the  best  knight  and  the  best  Christian  in  France,  as  ho 
showed  at  Tailleboui*g  and  at  Massoure.  It  was  because  death 
had  no  terrors  for  him,  whose  life  was  devoted  to  the  service 
of  God  and  his  justice;  who  spared  not  even  his  own  brother 
when  he  violated  its  holy  rules;  who  was  not  ashamed,  before, 
his  departure  for  the  Holy  Land,  to  send  mendicant  monki 
throaghout  his  kingdom,  in  order  to  inquire  of  the  meanest  of 
his  subjects  if  any  wrong  had  been  done  them  in  the  king^i 
name,  and  if  so,  to  repair  it  immediately  at  his  expense.  Hence, 
tm  though  he  were  the  impersonation  of  supreme  justice,  he 
is  chosen  as  the  arbitrator  in  all  the  greatest  questions  of 
his  time — between  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor — between  the 
English  barons  and  their  king — a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the 
infidels,  he  is  still  taken  as  judge.  Drawn  twice  by  his  love 
of  Christ  to  the  land  of  the  barbarians,  he  first  meets  cap* 
ilvity,  aad  theu  death — ^aepecies  of  martyrdom  it  was— the 


IVTBODUOTIOV. 


OD!y  martyrdom  he  eoold  have  obtained — the  only  deati  that 
was  worthy  of  him.  On  his  death-bed  he  dictates  to  k  i  aon 
his  memorable  instmctioos,  the  finest  words  erer  spot  by 
the  month  of  a  king. 

Jast  before  he  expired,  he  was  heard  to  mormor  -"O 
Jerusalem  1  Jerusalem  P  Was  it  the  hearenly  or  the  e  /thly 
Jerusalem  that  he  thns  apostrophised  in  regret,  or  in  s*  blime 
iiope  ?  He  would  not  enter  the  latter  by  treaty,  and  w  thcMt 
ills  army,  lest  his  example  should  authorize  other  Ch'  istlan 
kings  to  -^o  the  same.  But  they  did  better:  not  one  went 
there  ,  c<  4  him.  He  was  the  last  of  the  Crusader  ki  igs— > 
the  truly  Christian  kings — the  last,  and  assuredly  the  greatest. 
He  has  left  as  two  immortal  monuments — his  oratory  and  hia 
tomb — the  Holy  Chapel  and  St.  Denis— both  of  them  pure, 
simple,  and  pointing  heavenward  like  himself  But  he  left  ont 
still  fairer  and  more  lasting  in  the  memory  of  the  nations — 
the  oak  of  Yincennes. 

In  England,  the  perverse  race  of  the  Norman  kings — all 
oppressors  of  their  people,  and  furious  oppressors  of  the  Church 
— had  only  to  oppose  to  Philippe  Angu^te  the  infamous  John 
Sans  Terre  (Lack-land),  and  to  St.  Louis  only  the  pale  and 
feeble  Henry  III.  But  if  royalty  is  there  at  its  lowest  ebb, 
the  Church  shiiies  in  all  her  splendour^  and  the  nation  sue* 
eessfully  defends  her  mest  important  rights.  The  Church  had 
been  happily  blessed  in  England  with  a  succession  of  great 
men  in  the  primatial  see  of  Canterbury,  perhaps  nnequar.ed  in 
her  annals.  Stephen  Langton  was,  under  the  reign  of  John, 
the  worthy  representative  of  Innocent  III.,  and  the  worthy 
Kuccossot  of  St.  Dnnstan,  de  Lanf^anc,  St.  Ansclm,  and  St. 
Tliomos  a  Becket.  After  having  courageously  defended  the 
e<x>lcsiastical  privileges,  he  places  himself  at  the  head  of  th* 
insurgent  barons,  and  raised  an  army  for  Ood  and  the  hol^ 
Church,  which  forced  from  the  king  that  famous  Magnm 
Charta — ^the  basis  of  that  English  constitution  which  th« 


M 


IVTBODUOTIOV. 


uodenui  hare  so  much  admired,  forg;etting,  doobtleas,  that  it 
wu  bat  tho  effect  of  feudal  organization,  and  that  tiiis  fery 
charter,  far  from  being  an  innovation,  was  only  the  re-establisli- 
ment  of  the  laws  of  St.  Edward,  a  confirmation  of  the  public 
right  in  Europe  at  that  time,  founded  on  the  maintenance 
of  all  ancient  and  indiTidual  rights.  Under  Henry  III.,  who 
was  oiiiy  kept  on  his  tottering  throne  by  tiie  power  of  tho 
Holy  See  pre?euting  the  reunion  with  France,  which  would 
hare  followed  the  conquest  of  the  son  of  Philip  Augustus, 
the  Church  had  then,  too,  her  courageous  defenders,  and  her 
noble  victims,  in  St.  Edmund  of  Canterbury,  who  died  in  exile 
in  1242,  and  St.  Richard  of  Winchester;  and  the  nation  ac* 
complished  the  achievement  of  her  liberties,  under  Ihe  leader^ 
ship  of  the  noble  son  of  Simon  do  Montfort,  brave  and  pious 
as  his  father,  who  was  defeated  and  killed  at  the  end  of  hii 
career,  but  not  before  he  had  made  that  popular  war  a 
Crusade,  and  introduced  the  delegates  of  the  people  into 
the  first  political  assembly  which  bore  that  name,  since  so 
glorious — the  British  Parliament — (1258.) 

About  the  same  time,  there  was  Cf^en  in  Scotland  the 
pious  King  William,  an  ally  of  Innocent  III.,  commanding 
that  all  labourers  should  rest  from  their  toil  on  the  after- 
noon of  every  Saturday;  this  in  order  to  testify  his  love 
of  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin— (1202.)  In  the  Scan- 
dinavian kingdoms,  the  thirteenth  century  commences  under 
the  great  Archbishop  Absolom  de  Lund  (1201) — an  intrepid 
warrior  and  a  holy  ponti£f— the  benefactor  and  civilizer  of 
those  northern  tribes.  Sweden  was  progressing  under  the 
grandson  of  St.  Eric;  and  Norway,  which  had  retained  the 
most  traces  of  the  old  Germanic  constitution,  was  enjoying 
nnwonted  peace,  under  Haquin  Y.  (1217-1208),  her  princi* 
pal  legislator.  Waldemar  the  Yictorions  (1202-1252),  tho 
giost  illustrious  of  the  kings  of  Denmark,  extended  his  empire 
oter  all  the  ■outhcrn  coasts  of  the  Baltic,  and  preluding  the 


INTRODUCTIOir. 


onioa  of  Calmar,  conceived,  and  was  on  the  point  of  execii> 
ting,  the  grand  project  of  uniting,  under  one  chief,  all  tb« 
countries  bordering  on  the  Baltic,  when  the  battle  of  Bom* 
hoveden  (1227)  gave  the  Germanic  tribes  the  Hupremacj  over 
the  Scandinavians.  But,  throughout  all  his  conquests,  hh 
never  lost  sight  of  the  conversion  of  heathen  nations,  of  which 
he  was  constantly  reminded  by  the  Holy  See.  His  exertions 
for  the  propagation  of  the  faith  in  Livonia  were  seconded  by 
those  of  the  order  of  Porte-OIaius,  founded  solely  for  thai 
purpose  in  1203,  and  afterwards  by  those  of  the  Teutonic 
knights.  The  removal  of  the  chief  strength  of  this  lost  order 
into  Prusfia,  iu  order  to  implant  Christianity  there  (1234), 
is  an  immense  fact  in  the  history  of  religion  aud  of  the  civili* 
Eation  of  Northern  Europe.  If  human  passions  found  their 
way  all  too  soon  into  that  Crusade,  which  lasted  for  two  ceo- 
turies,  we  still  must  bear  in  mind  that  it  was  only  through  it 
that  Christianity  found  its  way  amongst  those  obstinate  and 
self-willed  tribes,  while,  at  the  same  time,  we  must  admire 
what  the  Popes  did  to  soften  the  rule  of  the  coiiqnerors.* 

Casting  our  eye  along  the  same  geographical  line,  we  see 
Poland  already  manifesting  the  foundations  of  the  orthodoa 
fnnffdom.-f  Archbishop  Henry  of  Gnesen,  the  legate  of  Inno- 
cent III.,  restored  discipline  and  ecclesiastical  freedom,  despite 
the  opposition  of  Duke  Ladislaus  :  St.  Hedwige,  aunt  of  our 
Elizabeth,  seated  on  the  Polish  throne,  gave  the  example  of 
the  most  austere  virtues,  and  offered  up,  as  a  holocaust,  her 
son,  who  died  a  martyr  for  the  faith,  fighting  against  the 
Tartars.  Poland,  presenting  an  impassable  barrier  agaioit 
the  advance  of  those  terrible  hordes,  who  had  enslaved  Ros* 
flia,  and  overrun  Hungary,  poured  out  rivers  of  her  best  blood 


*  Id  1119,  t  legita  from  th«  Pope  went  to  ProMla,  to  tMoro  to  lb* 
pnepio  the  freedom  of  marrUige  end  soeeeufcme,  4e. 
t  Tb*  UtU  iliMe  flTM  b7  tlie  r^pee  to  PolMd. 


ItfAODVOTIOV. 


daring  all  that  ceatory — thus  preparing  to  become,  what  the 
haa  ever  since  been,  the  glorious  martyr  of  Christendom. 

Desconding  once  more  towards  the  soath  of  Europe,  and 
oontewplating  that  Italy  which  was  wont  to  be  the  most 
brilliant  and  the  most  active  of  the  Christian  nations,  the  soul 
Is  at  <Vr8t  saddened  at  the  sight  of  those  cruel  and  intcrmina* 
Ule  straggles  of  the  Guclphsand  Qhibclincff,  and  all  that  vast 
empire  of  hatred  which  diffused  itself  throughout  the  land 
under  favour  of  that  war  of  principles  in  which  those  parties 
had  their  origin.  It  is  this  fatal  element  of  hatred  which  seems 
to  predominate  at  every  period  of  the  history  of  Italy.  It 
was  connected  with  a  certain  pagan  and  egotistical  policy — a 
lingering  memory  of  the  old  Roman  republic,  which  prevailed 
in  Italy,  through  all  the  middle  ages,  over  that  of  the  Church 
or  the  Empire,  and  blinded  the  Italians  in  a  great  degree  to 
the  salutary  influence  of  the  Holy  See,  whose  first  subjects 
they  should  have  been,  and  whose  power  and  devotion  they 
bad  a  good  opportunity  of  appreciating,  during  the  long  con- 
test between  the  Emperors  and  the  Lombard  cities.  But, 
however  disgusted  we  may  be  by  those  dissensions  which  rend 
the  very  heart  of  Italy,  we  cannot  help  admiring  the  physical 
and  moral  energy,  the  ardent  patriotism,  the  profound  convic* 
lions  impressed  on  the  history  of  every  one  of  the  innumerable 
republics  which  cover  its  surface.  We  are  amazed  at  that 
iif^redible  fecundity  of  monuments,  institutions,  foundations, 
great  men  of  aU  kinds,  warriors,  poets,  artists,  whom  we 
liebold  springing  up  in  each  of  those  Italian  cities,  now  so 
folate  and  forlorn.  Never,  assuredly,  since  the  ^lassie  ages 
of  ancient  Greece,  was  there  seen  such  a  mighty  development 
of  human  will,  such  a  marvellous  value  given  to  man  and  hii 
works,  so  much  life  in  so  small  a  space  !  But  when  we  think 
of  the  prodigies  of  sanctity  which  the  thirteenth  century  saw 
fn  Italy,  we  easily  understand  the  bond  which  kept  all  those 
impetaouB  souls  together,  no  vem^iber  tbat  river  of  Cbrittlai 


iVTmo»goTioff« 


cbaiity  which  flowed  on,  deep  and  incotiuDeDRarabl^,  ood«r 
thoM  wild  storiuti  tmd  rugiog  teas.  In  the  midit  at'  that  unl^ 
yenol  courusion,  cities  grow  Ai\d  flourish,  their  popnlatiou  if 
often  tenfold  wiiat  it  uow  is — ^masterpieces  of  art  are  pro- 
duced—commerce  every  day  increases  and  Bt*ienre  maiies 
ftill  more  rapid  progress.  Unlike  the  Qcraianic  States,  all 
political  and  social  existence  if  concentrated  with  the  nobles 
in  the  cities,  none  of  which,  howe?cr,  u  as  then  so  predominaul 
•f  to  absorb  the  life  of  the  others  ;  aod  this  free  concurrence 
amongst  them  may  explain,  in  part,  the  Qoheard  of  strength 
which  they  had  at  command.  The  league  of  the  Lombard 
cities,  flourishing  since  the  peace  of  Constance,  successfully 
withstood  all  the  efforts  of  the  imperial  power.  The  Crusades 
had  given  an  incalculable  stimulus  to  the  commerce  and  pros* 
perity  of  the  maritime  republics  of  Genoa  and  Venice  ;  the 
latter,  especially,  under  her  doge,  Henry  Dandola,  a  blind 
old  hero  of  four  score,  became  a  power  of  the  first  ordei  by 
the  conquest  of  Constantinople,  and  tliat  quarter  and  half  of 
the  Eastern  Empire,  of  which  she  was  so  long  prond.  The 
league  of  the  Tuscan  cities,  sanctioned  by  Innocent  III.,  gaTt 
new  security  to  the  existence  of  those  cities  whose  history 
equals  that  of  the  greatest  empires — the  cities  of  Pisa,  Lucca, 
and  Sienna,  which  solemnly  made  themselves  over  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin  before  the  glorious  victory  of  Arbia,  and 
Florence  especially,  perhaps  the  most  interesting  coalition  of 
medem  times.  At  every  page  of  the  annals  of  these  citiev, 
one  finds  the  most  touching  instances  of  piety,  and  of  the 
most  elevated  patriotism.  To  quote  but  one  amongst  a  thou* 
sand,  when  we  see  people  oomplain,  Kke  those  of  Ferrara, 
that  they  are  not  taxed  heavily  enough  for  the  wants  of  the 
couutry,  we  cannot  bring  ourselves  to  be  severe  on  institu- 
tions which  allow  of  such  a  degree  of  disinterestedness  and 
patriotism.  By  the  side  of  this  purely  Italian  movement,  it 
is  eertaia  that  the  great  atruggle  between  tiie  spiritoal  and 


INTRODUCTIOr. 


the  temporal  power  was  nowhere  so  manifested  aa  there ; 
and,  indeed,  the  latter,  redaced  to  the  necessity  of  being  rep* 
resented  by  the  atrocious  Eccelin,  the  lieutenant  of  Frcdv 
rick  II.,  sufficiently  demonstrates  the  moral  superiority  of  the 
cause  of  the  Church  The  South  of  Italy,  under  the  sceptre 
of  the  house  of  Suabia,  was  indebted  to  Frederick  II.  and  his 
Chancellor,  Pierre  des  Vignes,  for  the  benefit  of  a  wise  and 
complete  legislation,  with  all  the  splendour  of  poetry  and  the 
arts  ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  overrun,  through  that  Em« 
peror  and  his  son,  Mainfroi,  with  Saracen  colonies,  until 
Rome  called  in  a  new  French  race — the  house  of  Anjou^ 
which  came,  like  the  brave  Normans  of  old,  to  maintain  the 
independence  of  the  Church,  and  close  that  gate  of  Europe 
against  the  infidels. 

But  if  the  Catholic  historian  has  much  to  deplore  in  study* 
ing  the  history  of  Italy,  he  finds  in  the  Spain  of  the  thirteenth 
century  an  object  of  unmixed  admiration.  That  was,  in  eT<try 
respect,  the  heroic  age  of  that  most  noble  nation,  the  age  iu 
which  it  gained  both  its  territory  and  independence,  with  the 
glorious  title  of  the  Catholic  moiiarehy.  Of  the  two  great 
divisions  of  the  Peninsula,  we  first  see  in  Aragon,  after  that 
Peter  III.,  whom  we  have  seen  voluntarily  holding  his  crown 
from  Innocent  III.,  and  yet  dying  at  Muret  in  arms  against 
the  Church,  his  son,  Don  James  the  Conqueror,  whose  wife 
was  a  sister  of  St.  Elizabeth,  who  won  his  surname  by  taking 
Majorca  and  Valencia  from  the  Moors,  who  wrote,  like  Caesar 
his  own  chronicle,  and  who,  dnnng  a  reign  of  sixty-four  yeai-i 
of  unceasing  warfare,  was  never  conquered,  gained  thirty 
victories,  and  founded  two  thousand  churches.  In  Castile, 
the  century  opens  with  the  reign  of  Alphonso  the  Short, 
founder  of  the  order  of  St.  James,  and  of  the  University  of 
Salamanca.  Those  two  great  events  redound  to  the 'fame 
of  the  illustrious  Roderick  Ximenes,  Archbishop  of  Toledo 
11208-1215),  the  worthy  prtcarsor  of  bun  who  wat,  two 


XVTAODUCTIOir* 


M  there; 
being  re|»« 
,  of  Fredo" 
)rity  of  the 
the  sceptre 
II.  and  h\i 
a  wise  and 
try  and  the 
h  that  Effl- 
onies,  until 
of  Anjou— 
laintain  the 
3  of  Europe 

)re  in  study* 
te  thirteenth 
ras,  in  ev<*ry 
I,  the  age  iu 
ice,  with  the 
two  great 
1,  after  that 
g  his  crown 
irms  against 
whose  wife 
le  by  taking 
like  GiBsar 
iy-fouryeai^' 
lined  thirty 
In  Castile, 
the  Short, 
niversity  of 
the  fame 
of  Toledo 
WM,  two 


^Milarvei  later,  to  immortalise  the  same  name  ;  he  was,  like 
many  of  the  prelates  of  that  age,  an  intrepid  warrior,  a  pro> 
found  pi>)iiician,  an  eloquent  preacher,  a  faithful  historian, 
and  a  bountiful  almoner.  This  king  and  his  primate  were  the 
heroes  of  the  sublime  achievement  of  las  Navas  de  Toloeo 
(16th  July,  1212,)  when  Spain  did  for  Europe  what  France 
bad  done  ubder  Charles  Martel,  and  what  Poland  afterwards 
did  under  John  Sobieski,  when  she  saved  her  from  the  irrup* 
tion  of  four  hundred  thousand  Mussulmans,  coming  on  her 
from  the  rear.  The  sway  of  the  Crescent  was  broken  in  that 
glorious  engi»^ement — ^the  true  type  of  a  Christian  battle — 
consecrated  Uk  the  memory  of  the  people  by  many  a  miracu- 
lous tradition,  and  which  the  great  Pope  Innocent  III.  could 
not  worthily  relebrate  but  by  instituting  the  feast  of  the 
Triumph  of  th«  Cross,  Wiiich  is  even  now  solemnised  on  that 
day  in  Spain.  Alphonso  was  succeeded  by  St.  Ferdinand, — 
a  contemporary  4nd  cousin-german  of  St.  Louis, — who  was  no 
disgrace  to  his  illustrious  kindred,  for,  like  St.  Louis,  he 
united  all  the  nterits  of  the  Christian  warrior  to  all  the  vir* 
tues  of  the  Saint,  and  the  most  tender  love  for  his  people 
with  the  moht  ard<.ut  love  for  God«  He  would  never  consent 
to  load  his  people  with  new  taxes  :  "  Qod  will  otherwise  pro> 
vide  for  our  defenc*;,^'  said  he,  "  I  am  more  afraid  of  the  curse 
of  one  poor  w^oman  than  of  all  the  Moorish  host/'  And  yet 
he  carries  on,  with  unequalled  success,  the  work  of  national 
enfranchisement ;  he  takes  Cordova,  the  seat  of  the  Caliphate 
of  the  West,  and  after  having  dedicated  the  principal  mosque 
to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  he  brings  back  to  Compostella,  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  Moors,  the  bells  which  the  Caliph  Almanzor 
aad  forced  the  Christians  to  carry  away  from  it.  Conquering 
the  kingdom  of  Murcia  in  1240,  that  of  Jaen  in  1246,  of  Se- 
ville again  in  1248,  he  left  the  Moors  only  Qrenada :  but 
humble  in  the  midst  of  all  his  glcry,  and  extended  on  his  bed 
of  death,  he  weeping  ezcUimf : — ".0  my  lord  I. Thou  h«flt 


10 


XJfrTllODVOTIOir. 


■utfered  so  mdch  for  lore  of  me !  and  I — ^nuhappj  that  I  tnl 
—what  have  I  done  for  love  of  thee  T' 

Spain  had  her  permanent  crusade  on  her  own  soil ;  the 
rest  of  Europe  went  afar  to  seek  it,  either  northward  against 
the  barbarians,  or  soathward  against  the  heretics,  or  east- 
ward against  the  profaners  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  That 
great  thought  prevailed  from  time  to  time  over  all  local  ques- 
tions, all  personal  passions,  and  absorbed  them  all  into  one. 
It  expired  only  with  8t.  Louis  ;  and  was  still  in  all  its  vigour 
during  the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century.  In  its  opening 
years,  Foulquea  of  Nenilly — the  rival  of  Peter  the  Hermit 
and  of  St.  Bernard,  in  eloquence  and  power  of  persuasion — 
going  from  tournament  to  tournament,  makes  all  the  French 
chivalry  take  up  the  Cross.  An  army  of  barons  embarks  di 
Venice,  and  in  passing  overthrows  the  empire  of  Byzantium, 
as  the  first  stage  to  Jerusalem.  Notwithstanding  the  disap* 
proval  of  Innocent  III.,  founded  on  strict  equity,  we  cannot 
dispute  the  grandeur  of  this  astonishing  conquest,  nor  even 
the  Christian  sentiment  by  which  it  was  inspired.  We  always 
see  the  French  knights  laying  down,  as  the  basis  of  their  ne- 
gotiations, the  reunion  of  the  Greek  Church  with  Rome,  and 
making  it  the  first  result  of  their  victory.  Thi<t  conquest  was, 
moreover,  but  a  just  chastisement  inflicted  on  the  Greek  Em- 
perors for  their  perfidy,  in  having  always  betrayed  the  causd 
of  the  Crusades,  and  on  their  degenerate  and  sanguinary  peo* 
pie,  who  were  ever  either  the  slaves  or  the  assassins  of  their 
princes.  Although  the  idea  of  the  Crusade,  bearing  on  dif- 
ferent directions,  must  necessarily  lose  much  of  its  force,  yet 
that  force  is  revealed  to  us  by  all  those  generous  princes,  who 
did  not  think  their  life  compli  ;  until  they  had  seen  the  Holy 
Land ;  such  were  Thibant  de  Champagne,  who  celebrated 
that  expedition  in  sucb  noble  verses  ;  the  holy  Duke  LOuis, 
husband  of  our  Elisabeth,  whom  we  shall  see  die  on  the  wayj 
Leopold  of  Aostrfik,  and  f  ten  the  king  of  distant  Vonrty, 


IVT^ODUOTIOV. 


41 


iirho  wonld  go  in  company  with  St.  Loais.  The  wives  of 
these  noble  knights  hesitated  not  to  accompany  them  on 
these  distant  pilgrimages,  and  there  were  almos*  as  many 
princesses  as  princes  in  the  camps  of  the  Crusaders.  £?ea 
boys  were  carried  away  by  the  general  enthusiasm  ;  and  it  ii 
au  affecting  sight  to  see  that  crusade  of  boys  in  1212  from 
all  parts  of  Europe — whose  result  was  most  fatal,  for  they  all 
perished — but  still  it  was  a  striking  proof  of  that  love  of 
sacrifice,  of  that  exclusive  devotion  to  creeds  and  convictions, 
which  actuated  the  men  of  those  times  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  What  those  boys  had  attempted  in  their  early  age, 
worn-out  old  men  failed  not  to  undertake  ;  witness  that  Jean 
de  Brienne,  king  of  Jerusalem,  who,  after  a  whole  life  conse- 
crated to  the  defence  of  faith  and  the  Church,  even  against 
his  own  son-in-law,  Frederick  II.,  sets  out  when  upwards  of 
four-score,  to  undertake  the  defence  of  the  new  Latin  empirs 
of  the  East ;  after  almost  miraculous  success,  he  expires  at 
the  age  of  eighty-nine,  worn  out  by  conquest  still  more  than 
by  age,  having  first  stripped  oflf  the  imperial  purple  and  hit 
glorious  armour,  to  a^umo  the  habit  of  St  Francis,  and  to  die 
under  that  insignia  of  a  last  victory  (1237.) 

Besides  these  individual  manifestations  of  zeal,  Europe 
once  more  welcomed  the  appearance  of  that  permanent  militia 
of  the  Cross,  the  three  great  military  orders,  the  martial 
brotherhoods  of  the  Temple,  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  and 
St.  Mary  of  the  Germans.  These  last  had  for  their  grand 
master,  during  the  first  years  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
Hermann  de  Saltza,  famous  for. his  noble  and  indefatigable 
efforts  to  reconcile  the  Church  and  the  Empire,  and  under 
irhose  government  the  first  expedition  of  the  Teutonic  knights 
into  Russia  took  place,  whilst  one  of  the  principal  seats  of 
the  Order,  and  subsequently  its  capital,  was  near  the  tomb 
of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Marbourg. 

Thus  then,  in  the  East,  the  taking  of  Constantinople,  and 


a» 


INTRODUCTIOH. 


the  overthrow  of  the  Greek  Empire  by  a  handful  of  Franks  $ 
in  S{)ain,  las  Navas  de  Tolosa  by  St.  Ferdinand  ;  in  France. 
Bouvines  and  St.  Lcnis  ;  in  Germany,  the  glory  and  tlic  fall 
of  the  Hohenstaafen  line  ;  in  England,  the  Magna  Charta ; 
at  the  summit  of  the  Christian  world,  the  great  Innocent  III. 
and  his  heroic  successors  ;  this  is  sufficient,  it  seems  to  us,  to 
assign  to  the  time  of  St.  Elizabeth  a  memorable  place  in  the 
history  of  humanity.  If  we  seek  its  fundamental  ideas,  it 
will  be  easy  to  find  them,  on  one  side,  in  the  magnificent 
unity  of  that  Church  whom  nothing  escaped ;  who  proclaimed, 
in  her  must  august  mysteries  as  in  her  smallest  details,  the 
final  supremacy  of  mind  over  matter  ;  who  consecrated,  with 
wise  and  paternal  solicitude,  the  law  of  equality  amongst  men; 
and  who,  by  securing  to  the  meanest  serf  the  liberty  of  mar- 
riage and  the  inviolable  sanctity  of  the  family — by  assigning 
him  a  place  in  her  temples  by  the  side  of  his  masters — but, 
above  all,  by  giving  him  free  access  to  the  highest  spiritual 
dignities,  placed  an  infinite  difference  between  his  condition 
and  that  of  the  most  favoured  slave  of  antiqulij.  Then  over 
against  her  rose  the  lay  power — the  Empire — royalty  often 
profaned  by  the  evil  passions  of  those  who  exercised  them, 
but  restrained  by  a  thousand  bonds  within  the  ways  of  charity, 
meeting  at  every  turn  the  barriers  erected  by  faith  and  the 
Church  ;  not  having  yet  learned  to  delight  in  those  general 
legislatures  which  too  often  crush  down  the  gentoB  ai  nations 
to  the  level  of  a  barren  uniformity;  charged,  on  the  contrary, 
to  watch  over  the  maintenance  of  all  the  individual  rights 
and  holy  cnstoms  of  other  days,  as  over  the  regular  develop- 
ment  of  local  wants  and  particular  inclinations  ;  finally,  pre- 
liding  over  that  grand  feudal  system  which  was  wholly  bused 
on  the  sentiment  of  duty  as  involving  right,  and  which  gave 
to  obedience  all  the  dignity  of  virtue  and  all  the  devotion  of 
affection.  The  horrors  perpetrated  by  John  Lackland,  during 
his  long  contest  with  the  Church,  the  miscraole  decrepitude 
of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  clearly  show  what  the  lay  pow<Y 


IVTBODUCTIOV. 


tt 


irould  h&Te  been  if  left  to  itself,  whilst  its  alliance  with  the 
Church  giave  to  the  world  crowned  saints  like  St.  Loais  of 
France,  and  St.  Ferdinand  of  Spain — kings  whose  equals 
have  never  since  appeared. 

So  much  for  the  political  and  social  life  of  those  timoi. 
The  life  of  faith  and  of  the  soul — the  interior  life — in  as  far 
as  we  can  separate  it  from  the  foregoing,  presents  a  spectacle 
grander  and  more  marvellous  ^till,  and  is  much  more  nearly 
a])proximat«d  to  the  life  of  the  saint  whose  virtu(»  we  have 
attempted  to  pourtray.  By  the  side  of  those  great  events 
which  change  the  face  of  empires,  we  shall  see  revolutions 
greater  and  far  more  lasting  in  the  spiritual  order ;  by  the 
side  of  those  illustrious  warriors  —those  royal  saints,  we  shall 
see  the  Church  bring  forth  and  send  abroad  for  the  salvation 
ef  souls,  invincible  conquerors  and  armies  of  saints  drawn 
from  every  grade  of  Christian  society. 

In  fact,  there  was  a  great  corruption  of  morals  creeping  in 
amongst  Christians ;  fostered  in  heresies  of  various  kinds,  it 
rose  up  with  a  threatening  aspect  on  every  side  ;  piety  and 
fervour  were  relaxed  j  the  great  foundations  of  the  preceding 
.iges,  Cluny,  Citeaux,  Fremontre,  the  Chartreux,  were  no 
longer  sufficient  to  vivify  the  masses,  whilst,  in  the  schools, 
the  very  sources  of  Christian  life  were  too  often  dried  up  by 
harsh,  arid  lo^c.  The  disease  of  Christendom  required  some 
new  and  sovereign  remedy ;  its  benumbed  limbs  required  a 
violent  shock ;  strong  arms  and  (tout  hearts  were  required 
at  the  helm.  This  necessary  and  much-desired  succour  waa 
speedily  sent  by  God,  who  has  sworn  never  to  desert  Hit 
spouse,  and  never  will  desert  her. 

They  wert,  indeed,  prophetic  visions  wherein  Innocent  III. 
and  Honorius  III.  saw  the  bapi'ic  of  Latran,  the  mother  and 
the  cathedral  of  pU  Ohn^tvri  Churches,*  about  to  fall,  and 


*  We  read  ia  the  lr«r  ir'J' a  t^j^  lole  reirsdns  at  tb«  aneiant  ttoat,  on  the  modera 
portiU  of  St  «fuhp.  <vt  f^at:»'i:  '^Pegmatl  PH>«U  data*  mo  rimul  ImiMriali,  qaod  t»m 
f uneterum  onfttw  et  crpqt  ".^'-^Mtarum,^  A*. 


IlTTRODUCTtOir. 


fupported  either  by  an  Italiaa  friar  or  a  poor  Spanish  priest 
Behold  him  ! — 1)ehold  that  priest  descending  from  the  Pyre* 
nees  into  the  south  of  France,  overran  by  heretics — going 
barefoot  through  briers  and  thorns  lo  preach  to  them.  It  ii 
the  great  St.  Dominic  de  Gusman,*  whom  his  mother  saw, 
before  his  birth,  nnder  the  form  of  a  dog  carrying  a  blazing 
torch  in  his  month — ^prophetic  emblem  of  his  rlgilance  and 
burning  zeal  for  the  Church  ;  a  radftint  star  was  shining  on 
his  brow  when  he  was  presented  for  l^aptism  ;  he  grew  np  in 
holiness  and  parity,  having  no  other  love  than  that  divine 
Virgin  whose  mantle  seemed  to  him  to  cover  all  the  heavenly 
country;  his  hands  exhale  a  perfume  wnich  inspire  chastity  in 
all  who  approach  him;  he  is  mild,  afikble,  and  humble  towards 
ail ;  he  has  the  gift  of  tears  in  great  abundance  ;  he  sells 
even  the  books  of  his  libraiy  to  relieve  the  poor  ;  he  would 
e«en  sell  himself  to  redeem  a  captive  from  the  heretics.  Bat» 
in  order  to  save  all  t&e  soqIs  who  were  exposed  to  such  im- 
minent peril,  he  conceives  the  idea  of  a  religions  order,  no 
longer  cloistered  and  sedentary,  bat  wandering  all  over  the 
world  seeking  impiety  to  confound  it ;  an  order  to  act  as 
preachers  of  the  faith.  He  goes  to  Rome,  in  order  to  have 
his  saving  project  confirmed ;  and,  on  the  first  night  after  his 
arrival,  he  has  a  dream,  in  which  he  sees  Christ  preparing  t^ 
strike  the  goilty  world  ;  but  Mary  interferes,  and,  in  order  to 
appease  her  son,  presents  to  him  Dominick  himself  and  another 
person  nnknown  to  him.  Next  day,  going  into  a  church,  he 
sees  there  a  man  in  tattered  garments,  whom  he  recognises  as 
the  companion  who  had  been  given  him  by  the  Mother  of  the 
Redeemer.  He  instantly  throws  himself  into  his  arms:  "  Thou 
art  my  brother,*'  said  he,  **  and  dost  run  the  same  conrso  with 
me;  let  08  work  together,  and  no  man  can  prevail  against  as.'' 
And  from  that  moment,  the  two  had  but  one  heart  and  out 


la  mO;  Upm  to  piwel  to  1100;  dto4  to  1«. 


nrTRODUOTioir. 


a 


M>u1.      fhat  mendicant  was  St.  FVancis  of  Aaaisium,   "  Um 
glotio  J  begpfar  of  Christ" 

He,  too,  had  conceived  the  idea  of  re-conqnering  the  world 
by  humility  and  love,  by  becoming  the  minor— the  leaat  of 
all  men.  ^e  undertakes  to  restore  her  spouse  to  that  diviAilV 
poverty,  i^idowed  since  the  death  of  Christ.  At  the  age  of> 
twenty-five,  he  breaks  asunder  all  the  ties  of  family,  of 
honour,  of  propriety,  and  descends  from  his  mountain  of 
Assisium  to  offer  to  the  world  the  most  perfect  example  of 
the  folly  of  the  Cross  which  it  had  seen  since  the  planting  of 
that  Cross  on  Calvary.  But,  far  from  repelling  tlie  world  by 
that  folly,  he  overcomes  it.  Tlie  mor^  that  sublime  fool  de* 
^ades  himself  voluntarily — to  the  end  that,  by  his  humility 
«nd  contempt  of  men,  he  may  be  worthy  of  becoming  the 
vessel  of  love — the  more  his  greatness  shines  fcrth  and  pene- 
trates afa.  off, — the  more  eagerly  all  men  press  on  in  his  foot* 
steps ;  some  ambitious  to  strip  themselves  of  all  like  him, 
others  anxious,  at  least,  to  hear  his  inspired  words.  In  vain 
does  he  go  to  seek  martyrdom  in  Egypt ;  the  East  sends  him 
back  to  the  West,  which  he  is  to  fructify,  not  with  his  blood, 
but  with  that  river  of  love  which  escaped  from  his  heart,  and 
with  those  five  wounds  which  had  been  impressed  upon  bi6 
pnre  body  by  Him  who  loved  the  world  even  unto  death. 
Franciin,  too,  embraced  the  whole  world  in  his  fervent  love  ; 
6rst,  all  mankind,  whom  he  loved  to  excess :  • '  If  I  did  not 
give,"  said  he,  as  he  stripped  off  his  only  garment  to  cover  * 
poor  man — "  If  I  did  not  give  what  I  wear  to  him  who  waft 
in  more  need  of  it  than  myself,  I  should  be  accused  of  robberf 
by  the  Great  Almoner  in  heaven.^  Then  all  nature,  animate 
■nd  inanimate, — every  creature,  is  to  him  as  a  brother  or 
t  sister,  o  whom  he  prtvshes  the  Word  of  their  common 
Father,  whom  he  would  fain  deliver  fh>m  the  oppression  of 
man,  and  whose  pains  he  would,  if  possible,  relieve.  "  Why,* 
Mid  he  to  a  butcher,  "  nhy  io  yon  h^ng  and  tortvre  mf 


49 


IVTmODUOTIOV. 


brethren,  the  lambs  ?^  And  to  captiye  birds  .  "  Ye  dore^ 
my  dear  little  siRters,  simple,  innocent  and  pure,  why  did  yoQ 
allow  yourselves  to  be  caught  thus  V*  "  He  knew/'  says  his 
biographer,  a  Saint,  like  himself,  "  that  all  creatures  had  the 
same  origin  as  he  ;  and  he  proved,  by  uis  tenderness  towards 
them,  as  well  as  by  their  miraculous  obedience  towards  him 
what  man,  victorious  over  sin  and  restored  to  his  natural  con- 
nection ^'ith  God,  can  do  for  that  nature  which  is  only  de- 
graded on  his  account  and  looks  to  him  for  its  restoration. 
Jesus  and  Mary  open  to  him  themselves  all  the  treasuries  of 
the  Church  in  that  mean  chapel  of  the  Portiuncule,  which 
remains  to  us  as  a  preciOwS  relic  of  that  poverty  whose 
"  desperate  lover"  he  was,  accnrJing  to  Bossnet  ;*  tho  Pope 
confirms  these  celestial  favours  on  beholding  the  red  and 
white  roses  which  Francis  presents  to  him  in  the  midst  of 
winter.  He  then  ascends  the  heights  of  Alvemo  to  receive 
the  triumphant  stigmasf  which  were  to  complete  his  con- 
formity with  the  Saviour,  and  to  make  him,  in  the  eyes  of 
Christian  nations,  the  true  Cross-bearer — the  standard-bearer 
of  Christ,  whilst  the  Holy  See,  three  centuries  after,  styled 
him  the  Angel  of  the  East  marked  with  the  sign  of  the  living 
God. 

At  sight  of  these  two  men,  the  world  nnderstood  that  it 
was  saved — that  new  blood  was  to  be  infused  into  its  veins. 
Innumerable  disciples  hastened  to  range  themselves  under 
their  all-conquering  banners.  A  long  cry  of  enthusiasm  and 
of  sympathy  arose,  and  was  prolonged  for  ages,  resounding 
•Torywhere,  from  the  constitutions  of  the  sovereign  Pontiffs 
to  the  songs  of  the  Poets.    **  When  the  reigning  Emperor," 


•  Bitppj,  •  thoQMnd  times  bnppj,  Is  tiut  hamble  Fhuidn,  th«  most  wdf at,  tbt 
BiMt  passionate,  and,  if  I  maj  ro  speak,  the  most  desperate  lover  of  porefty  thil 
ferhaps  ever  was  in  the  Church. — Bossuar,  Paniffyriqu«  d«  SL  /Vonfol*. 

t  Oorpore  sac  Cbilst*  trlumplialla  stlpMatft  pmfereatl««-Bvu.  «r  JLtaoAmm 
If  ^  Bmigna, 


IIITRODOOTIOH. 


pays  Dnnte,  "woold  lave  his  army  from  a  dangerous  position, 
he  sent  these  tw(»  chairpions  to  his  wife's  assistance :  their 
words,  their  inflneacct  brought  the  people  hack  to  reason." 
"  These  two  orders,**  sayp.  tiixtus  IV.,  in  1479,  after  two  cen- 
turies and  a  half  of  experience,  "  like  the  two  first  rivers  of 
the  terrestrial  Paradise,  have  watered  the  soil  of  the  universal 
<  'hnrch  by  their  doctrine,  their  virtnes,  and  their  merits,  and 
render  it  every  day  more  fruitful ;  they  are,  as  it  were,  two 
fieraphim,  who,  raised  on  the  wings  of  snblime  contemplation 
and  angelic  loTe  above  all  earthly  things,  by  the  assiduous 
singing  of  the  divine  praises,  by  the  manifestation  of  the 
immense  favours  conferred  on  man  by  the  Supreme  Artificer, 
do  unceasingly  gather  into  the  granaries  of  the  Holy  Church 
abundant  sheaves  from  the  pure  harvest  of  souls  redeemed  by 
the  precious  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  are  the  two  trum- 
pets whereof  the  Lord  makes  use  to  invite  the  nations  to  the 
banquet  of  His  holy  Gospel.'* 

Scarcely  were  |hese  orders  in  existence,  when  their  power 
and  their  propagation  became  one  of  the  most  important  his- 
torical facts  of  tl.^  period.  The  Church  suddenly  finds  herself 
mistress  of  two  numerous  armies,  moveable  and  always  avail- 
able,  ready  at  any  mcsscnt  to  invade  the  world.  In  1277, 
half  u  century  after  the  death  of  St.  Dominick,  his  order  had 
already  four  hundred  and  seventeen  convents  in  Europe.  St. 
Francis,  in  his  own  life-time,  assembles  five  thousand  of  his 
monks  at  Assisium  ;  and,  thirty-five  years  after,  in  numbering 
the  forces  of  the  Seraphic  Order  at  Narbonne,  it  is  found 
that,  in  thirty-three  provinces,  it  already  reckons  eight  hun- 
dred monasteries,  and  at  least  twenty  thousand  religious.  A 
century  later,  its  numbers  were  computed  at  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand.  The  conversion  of  pagan  nations  is  renewed  : 
Franciscans,  'jeni  by  Innocent  lY.  and  St.  Louis,  penetrate 
to  Morocco,  to  Damascus,  and  even  amongst  the  Mongols  ; 
i>Gt  t?ieir  chief  care  ii  to  overcome  the  passions  of  pi^nifiD 


48 


IVtmODVOTtOV* 


Id  the  heart  of  Christian  nations.  They  spread  abroad  OTer 
Italy,  ion  asani^er  by  internal  diasensioni,  seeking;  e?ery 
where  to  reo)ncile  opposite  parties,  t^  nproot  errors,  acting 
as  supreme  arbiters,  accordii^  ts  the  law  of  charity.  They 
were  seen,  in  1283,  trarersing  the  whole  Italian  peninsula, 
with  crosses,  incense,  and  olire-branches,  singing  and  preach- 
ing peace,  reproaching  cities,  princes,  and  eren  the  chiefs  of 
the  Church,  with  their  faults  and  their  enmities.  The  nations 
submit,  at  least  for  a  time,  to  that  sublime  mediation ;  the 
nobles  and  the  people  of  Plaisance  are  reconciled  at  the 
bidding  of  a  Franciscan  ;  Pisa  and  Yisconti,  at  that  of  a 
Dominican  ;  and  on  the  plain  of  Yerona  two  hundred  thou- 
sand souls  are  seen  crowding  around  the  blessed  John  of 
Vicenza,  a  preaching  friar  sent  by  the  Pope  to  quiet  the 
disturbance  in  Tuscany,  in  Romagna,  and  in  the  Trevisan 
March.  On  this  solemn  occasion  he  takes  for  his  text  the 
woods,  "  My  peace  I  leave  you  ;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  ;** 
and,  before  he  ends,  an  outburst  of  tears  ajnd  sobs  shows  that 
eyeiy  heart  is  touched,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  rival  houses  of 
Este  and  Romano,  embracing  each  other,  ^ive  the  signal  for 
a  general  reconciliation  It  is  tioe  that  these  happy  results 
did  not  last  long  ;  but  the  evil  was,  at  least,  yigorously 
opposed — the  sap  of  Christianity  was  revived  in  the  souls  of 
men — a  gigantic  struggle  was  everywhere  and  always  carried 
on  in  the  name  of  equity  against  the  dead  letter  of  the  law — 
in  the  name  of  charity  against  the  perverse  inclinations  of 
man — in  the  Bane  of  grace  and  foith  against  the  dryness  and 
the  paucity  of  scientific  reasoning.  Nothing  escaped  thir 
iiew  influence ;  it  moved  the  scattered  inhabitants  of  the 
rural  d'atricts  ;  it  shared  the  sway  of  the  universities  ;  it 
even  affected  the  king  on  his  throne.  Joinville  tells  us  how, 
at  the  first  place  where  he  landed  on  hfs  return  from  th( 
Orusade,  St.  Louis  was  welcomed  by  a  Fianciscan,  who  tolc* 
Um  that  "  nev<^r  was  kingdom  lost,  saTe  for  want  of  ioslioe 


IVTBOnUOTIOH. 


and  that  he  mast  bd  carefal  to  adminiiter  Justice  promptly  and 
willingly  to  hifl  people  ;  and  that  every  one  waa  miiidfal  of 
the  king.''  It  is  well  known  how  he  sought  to  steal  away 
from  his  dearly  beloTed  wife,  his  friends,  and  coansellors,  to  re- 
nounce the  crown  which  he  so  gloriously  wore,  and  go  himself 
to  beg  his  bread  like  St.  Francis.  But  he  was  obliged  to  con- 
tent himself  with  becoming  a  penitent  of  the  third  order  ;  for  in 
•heir  all-conquering  army  they  had  a  suitable  place  for  every 
one.  Together  with  these  battalions  of  monks,  numerous 
monasteries  were  opened  for  virgins  who  aspired  to  the 
honour  of  immolating  themselvec  for  Christ,  and  the  vasi 
affiliations  known  under  the  name  of  third  ordert  offered  a 
place  for  princes,  warriors,  married  people,  fhthers  of  families, 
in  a  word,  to  all  the  faithful  of  both  sexes  who  wished  to 
associate  themselves,  at  least  indirectly,  in  the  great  work  of 
regenerating  Christendom. 

Ti  .dition  relates  that  the  two  glorious  patriarchs  of  that 
regeneration  ha  1  at  one  time  an  idea  of  uniting  their  efforts 
and  their  orders^  apparently  so  much  alike  ;  but  the  celestial 
inspiration  on  which  they  acted  revealed  to  them  that  there 
jfM  room  for  two  different  powers — for  two  kinds  of  war 
against  the  invasion  of  evil.  They  seem  to  have  divided 
their  sublime  mission,  and  also  the  moral  world,  in  order  to 
bring  back  charity  and  knowledge  to  the  bosom  of  the 
Church,  and  to  reconcile  those  two  g^at  rivals  which  cannot 
exist  one  without  the  other.  This  reconciliation  was  effected 
by  them  aa  it  had  never  been  before.  Whilst  the  love  that 
consumed  and  absorbed  the  soul  of  St.  Francis  has  ever 
gained  for  him  in  the  Clhnrch  the  name  of  the  Seraph  of 
Assisium,  it  would  not  be  rash,  perhaps,  with  Dante,  to 
attribute  to  St.  Dominick  the  power  and  the  light  of  the 
Cherubim.  Their  children  showed  themselves  faithful  to  this 
distinct  tendency,  which  ended  in  the  same  eternal  unity, 
and  with  some  few  notable  exceptions,  it  may  be  said  th«t^ 


INTBODUCTIOV. 


dating  from  that  period  of  the  Church's  hifltorj,  the  pnrt 
which  \\M  CHpccially  fallen  to  the  Sornphic  Order  wor  the 
diHtilliiig  and  diffuHion  of  the  treasures  of  luve,  the  mysterious 
Joys  of  sacrifice  ;  whilst  that  of  the  Preachers  was,  as  tlicir 
unuic  iuipliet<,  to  propagate,  defend,  and  establish  the  truth. 
Neither  one  nor  the  other  failed  in  its  mission  ;  and  both  in 
tlioir  adolescence,  and  in  the  course  of  the  half  century  of 
which  we  speak,  gave  to  the  Church,  perhaps,  more  Saints 
and  Doiictors  than  she  had  ever  possessed  In  so  short  an 
interval,  from  the  first  ages  of  her  existence.  Following 
closely  in  the  footsteps  of  St.  Dominick — that  holy  champion 
of  the  faith — that  coadjutor  of  the  Eternal  Labourer — comes 
all  at  once  the  Brother  Jourdain,  worthy  of  being  his  first 
successor,  and  general  of  his  or  ler  ;  then  St.  Peter  of  Verona, 
tionoured  with  the  title  of  the  martyr  as  if  by  excellence,  and 
who,  assassinated  by  the  heretics,  wrote  on  the  ground,  with 
the  blood  from  his  wounds,  the  first  words  of  the  Creed 
whose  truth  he  maintained  at  the  expense  of  his  life  ;  then 
St.  Hyacinth,  and  Ceslas  his  brother,  those  young  PoUsn 
nobles,  who,  meeting  St.  Dominick  in  Rome,  were  induced  to 
renounce  all  worldly  greatness,  in  order  to  carry  that  pew 
light  to  their  own  country,  whence  it  was  to  spread  with 
lightning  rapidity  through  Lithuania,  Muscovy,  and  Prussia  ; 
(hen,  St.  Raymond  de  Penafort,  chosen  by  Gregory  IX.  to 
assist  in  framing  the  legislation  of  the  Church,  the  author  of 
the  Decrees^  and  successor  of  St.  Dominick ;  finally,  that 
Theobald  Visconti,  who  was  to  preside  over  the  affairs  of  the 
Church  under  the  MMne  of  Gregory  X.,  before  he  becauie 
eternally  entitled  t^  its  prayers,  as  Beatified  in  Heaven. 
Abreast  of  these  mes  vhose  sanctity  th?  Church  has  conse* 
crated  a  host  of  oikers  urere  distinguished  for  their  talents 
nnd  learning.  Albe  -  the  Great,  that  colossus  of  learning, 
tlie  propagator  of  Aristotle  ind  the  master  of  St.  Thomas  : 
Vincent  de  iteaavais  author  of  the  great  encyclopsdia  of  tht 


IITTIIODrCTIOir. 


M 


fnuldle  afrei  ;  Cardinal  Hogaet  de  Saint-Ctier,  who  mado  th« 
first  concordance  of  the  Scriptares  ;  Cardinal  Henri  de  Snion, 
author  of  La  Summe  Doret ;  and  above  all,  in  saoctltj  as  in 
knowledge,  the  great  St.  Tliomas  d'Aqninas,  the  Angelic 
Doctor^  the  gigantic  thinker,  in  whom  there  Kcems  to  Iw 
■umined  np  all  the  science  of  the  ages  of  faith,  and  wIiom 
magnificent  synthesis  has  never  since  been  equalled  ;  who, 
with  all  his  rapt  abstraction,  is  still  an  admirable  poet,  and 
merits  to  be  chosen  as  the  intimate  friend  and  counsellor  of 
St.  Louis  in  the  most  intricate  affairs  of  his  kingdom.  "Tlion 
host  written  well  of  me,"  said  Christ  to  him  one  day  ;  "what 
reward  dost  thou  ask  V*  "  Yoarself,"  replied  the  Saint  That 
word  comprises  his  whole  life  and  times. 

The  army  of  St.  Francis  marched  to  battle  nnder  chiefs 
no  less  glorious  than  those  of  the  Dominicans  ;  during  his 
own  lifetime,  twelve  of  his  first  disciples  went  to  gather  th« 
palms  of  martyrdom  amongst  the  heathen.  B.  Bernard, 
B.  Egidins,  and  B.  Guy  of  Cortonn,  all  of  that  company  oi 
Saints  who  were  companions  and  disciples  of  the  holy  founder, 
survived  him,  ond  preserved  the  inviolable  deposit  of  that 
spirit  of  love  and  b  iioiility  wherewith  be  had  been  transported 
Scarcely  had  ♦iie  Seraph  taken  his  place  before  the  throne  of 
God,  when  hb  pio  ^e  in  the  veneration  of  the  world  is  occupied 
by  him  whom  all  proclaim  as  his  first-born-  -  St.  Anthony  of 
Padua,  L^bratf  i,  like  his  spiritual  father,  for  that  control 
over  natnrv,  whi':h  won  for  him  the  name  of  Thanmatnrgns  ; 
he  who  wan  named  by  Gregory  IX.  the  Ark  of  the  Two 
Cowerumls ;  «rho  had  the  gift  of  tongaes,  like  the  Apostles  ; 
who,  after  hating  edified  France  and  Sicily,  spends  his  lait 
years  in  pr2fx:bing  peace  and  anion  to  the  Lombard  cities, 
oblaims  from  the  Padnans  the  privilege  of  the  cession  of  funds 
for  unhappy  debtors,  ventures  also  to  upbraid  the  ferocious 
Eccelin  with  bis  tyranny,  makes  the  nithless  oppressor  treni> 
blc,  08  he  hunself  confewes,  and  diet  at  thirty-six,  in  the  lamt 


63 


tHTH004T0TI0ir. 


year  with  St.  Elizabeth.  Somewhat  later,  Roger  Bacon* 
reinstates  and  sanctifies  the  stadj  of  nature,  classifies  all  the 
icicnecs,  and  foresees,  if  he  does  not  even  eflfect,  the  greatest 
discoveries  of  modern  times.  Duns  Scotos  disputes  with  St 
Tiiomas  the  empire  of  the  schools ;  and  that  great  genins  findi 
a  rival  and  a  friend  in  St.  Bonaventure,  the  Seraphic  Doctor^ 
who  being  asked  by  his  iUnstrions  rival,  the  Angelic  Doctor^ 
from  what  books  he  derived  his  amazing  knowledge,  pointed 
in  silence  to  his  crucifix,  and  who  was  found  washing  th« 
dishes  in  his  convent  when  the  Cardinal's  hat  was  brought  him. 
But  it  is  chiefly  through  women  that  the  order  of  St 
Francis  sheds  anequalled  splendour  on  that  age.  That  sex, 
emancipated  by  Christianity,  and  rising  in  the  esteem  of 
Christian  nations,  according  as  the  devotion  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin  increased,  could  not  fail  to  take  an  active  part  in  the 
new  developments  of  the  power  to  which  it  owed  its  freedom. 
Thus,  St.  Dominick  had  introduced  a  fruitful  reform  into  the 
rule  of  the  spouses  of  Christ,  and  opened  a  new  career  to 
their  virtues.  But  it.  was  not  until  long  after,  that  in  Margaret 
of  Hungary,  Agnes  of  Monte-Pulciano,  and  Catherine*  of 
Sienna,  this  branch  of  the  Dominican  tree  was  to  bring  forth 
those  prodigies  of  sanctity  which  have  since  been  so  numerous 
Francis,  more  fortunate  in  this  regard,  finds  at  the  outset  a 
sister,  an  ally  worthy  of  him.  Whilst  he,  a  merchant's  son, 
commenced  his  work  with  some  other  humble  citizens  of 
Afisisium,  in  that  same  city,  Clara  Sciffi,  the  daughter  oS  a 
powerful  Count,  felt  hersi^lf  inspired  with  a  similar  seal.  She 
^  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  when,  on  a  Palm-Sunday, 
whilst  the  palms  borne  by  others  are  withered  and  faded, 
hers  suddenly  blooms  anew.  It  is  for  her  a  precept  and  t 
warning  from  on  high.    That  very  night,  she  *flies  from  her 


•  Bora  In  1814    To  bira  to  attributed  th«  diseoyery  <^  gonpowder,  the 
fe.    It  is  known  that  he  presented  to  Clement  IV.  that  plati  ofseforaiof  lb* 
•m,  whldi  w«  afterward*  adopted  bf  Oregorj  XIEL 


.fVIRODUOTIO*. 


tt 


father's  hoose,  penetrates  to  tSe  Portiuneula,  kneels  at  the 
feet  0^  St.  Francis,  receives  from  his  hands  the  cord  and  the 
coarse  woollen  habit,  and  devotes  herself  like  him  to  evangel 
lc«.i  poverty.  In  vain  do  her  parents  persccote  her ;  she  li 
joined  by  her  sister  and  many  other  virgins,  who  vie  with 
her  in  their  austerities  and  privations.  In  vain  do  the 
Sovereign  Pontiffs  entreat  her  to  moderate  her  zeal,  to  accept 
some  fixed  rnle,  since  her  strict  seclusion  forbade  her  to  go, 
like  the  Friars  Minora,  to  solicit  charity  from  the  faithful, 
and  rednced  her  to  depend  on  chance  assistance.  She  obsti- 
nately resists,  and  Innocent  lY.  finally  grants  her  the  privi- 
lege of  perpetual  poverty,  the  only  one,  he  said,  that  none  had 
ever  asked  of  him.  "  But  He,''  he  added,  "  who  feeds  the 
)Irds  of  the  air,  who  clothes  the  earth  with  flowers  and  rer- 
dure,  can  well  feed  and  clothe  you  till  the  day  when  He  shall 
give  Himself  for  your  eternal  aliment — when  He  will  cTsbrace 
you  with  His  victorious  arm  in  the  fnlnesi  of  His  glory  and 
beatitude."  Three  Popes  and  a  multitude  of  other  saintly  and 
noble  personages  came  to  seek  light  and  consols  tim  from  that 
humble  virgin.  In  a  few  years  she  sees  a  whole  army  of  pioni 
women,  with  queens  and  princesses  at  their  head,  rising  and 
encamping  in  Europe,  under  the  rnle  of  Francis  of  Assisiara, 
living  under  her  direction  and  called  from  her  Poor  Claree, 
But  in  the  midst  of  this  spiritual  empire,  her  modesty  is  so 
great  that  she  is  never  seen  to  raise  her  eyes  but  once,  viz., 
when  she  asked  the  Pope's  blessing.  The  Saracens  come  to 
besiege  her  monastery  ;  sick  and  bed-ridden  she  arises,  takes 
the  ostensory  in  her  hand,  walks  forth  to  meet  them,  and 
tliey  immediately  take  to  flight.  After  fourteen  years  of  a 
holy  union  with  St.  Francis,  she  loses  him ;  then,  having  long 
endured  the  most  grievous  infirmity,  she  dies  after  having 
dictated  a  most  sublime  testament ;  and  the  Sovereign  Poti* 
tiff,  who  had  witnessed  her  death,  proposes  her  at  once  to  th« 
leueration  of  the  £aithfol,  proelaimlng  her  the  resplendeol 


M 


IHTRODUOTIOV. 


light  of  the  temple  of  God,  the  princess  of  poverty,  and  the 
duchess  of  humility. 

As  St.  Franci»  found  a  friend  and  sister  in  St  Clare,  so 
did  St.  Anthony  of  Padua  in  the  blessed  Helena  Ensimel!* ; 
bjit,  by  a  marvellous  effect  of  divine  grace,  it  is  especially 
amongst  the  daughters  of  kings  that  the  mendicant  order 
finds  its  most  eminent  saints ;  whether  they  enter  upon  the 
strict  observance  of  the  Poor  Clares^  or,  restrained  in  the 
bonds  of  marriage,  can  only  adopt  the  rule  of  the  third  order. 
The  first  in  date  and  in  renown  is  that  Elizabeth  of  Hang<iry, 
whose  life  we  have  written.  It  was  not  in  vain,  as  we  shall 
see,  that  Pope  Gregory  IX.  obliged  St.  Francis  to  send  her 
his  poor  cloak  ;  like  Elisens  of  old  receiving  that  of  Elias, 
she  was  to  find  therein  the  fortitude  to  become  his  heiress. 
Inflamed  by  her  example,  her  cousin-german,  Agnes  of 
Bohemia,  refuses  the  hand  of  the  Emperor  of  the  Romans, 
and  that  of  the  king  of  England,  and  writes  to  St.  Clare, 
that  she,  too,  has  taken  vows  of  absolute  poverty.  St.  Clare 
replies  in  an  admirable  letter,  which  has  been  preserved,  and 
at  the  same  time  sends  to  her  royal  neophyte  a  cord  to  encir- 
cle her  waist,  an  earthen  bowl,  and  a  crucifix.  Like  her, 
Isabella  of  France,  sistei'  of  St.  Louis,  refuses  to  become  the 
wife  of  the  Emperor  Conrad  IV.,  to  become  a  Poor  Clare^  and 
die  a  Saint  like  her  brother.  Marguerite,  the  widow  of  that 
holy  king,  the  two  daughters  of  St.  Ferdinand  of  Castile,  and 
Helena,  sister  of  the  king  of  Portugal,  follow  that  example. 
But,  as  if  Providence  would  bless  the  tender  bond  which 
vnited  our  Elizabeth  to  St.  Francis  and  St.  Clare,  whom  she 
had  taken  for  models,  it  is  chiefly  her  family  which  offers  to 
Ihe  Seraphic  Order  as  it  were  a  nursery  of  Saints.  After  her 
cousin  Agnes,  it  is  her  sister-in-law,  the  blessed  Salome,  queen 
of  Gallicia  ;  then  her  niece,  St.  Cunegunda,  Duchess  of 
Poland ;  and  whilst  another  of  her  nieces,  the  blessed  Mar 
|aret  of  Hungary,  prefers  the  order  of  St.  Dominick  in  which 


IVTRODUCTIOir. 


5& 


«hc  dies  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  the  grand-daughter  of  her 
r'ster,  named  after  her  Elhsabcth,  having  become  Qneen  of 
Portugal,  embraces,  like  her,  the  third  order  of  St.  Francis, 
and  like  her  merits  the  eternal  veneration  of  the  faithful. 

In  view  of  these  Franciscans  of  royal  birth,  we  must  not 
lose  sight  of  those  whom  the  grace  of  God  drew  forth  from 
tlie  lowest  ranks  of  the  people.  Such  was  St.  Margaret  of 
Cortona,  who,  from  a  prostitute,  became  the  model  of  peni- 
tents ;  and  especially,  St.  Rose  of  Viterbo,  the  illustrious 
and  poetic  heroine  of  the  faith,  who,  though  scarcely  teft 
years  old,  when  the  fugitive  Pope  had  not  in  Italy  a  spot 
wliere  he  might  remain,  went  down  to  the  public  square  of 
her  native  city,  to  preach  the  rights  of  the  Holy  See  against 
Cho  imperial  power  which  she  succeeded  in  shaking,  merited 
to  be  exiled  at  fifteen,  by  order  of  Frederick  II.,  and  returned 
in  ti*  r^j^i  with  the  Church,  to  die  at  seventeen,  the  admira- 
I'on  -y.  v»ii  Italy,  where  her  name  is  still  popular. 

Those  two  great  orders,  which  peopled  Heaven  by  stirring 
rp  the  earth,  met,  notwithstanding  the  diversity  of  their 
( haracters  and  modes  of  action,  in  one  common  object — the 
bve  and  veneration  of  Mary.  It  was  impossible  that  the 
influence  of  this  sublime  belief  in  the  Tirgin-Mother,  which 
had  been  steadily  and  rapidly  increasing,  since  the  proclama- 
tion of  her  divine  maternity  at  the  Council  of  Ephesus,  should 
not  be  comprised  in  the  immense  spiritual  movement  of  the 
thirteenth  century  ;  hence,  it  may  be  said  that  if,  in  the  pre* 
coding  century,  St.  Bernard  had  given  the  same  impulse  to 
the  devotion  of  the  people  for  the  Blessed  Virgin,  that  he 
had  impressed  on  every  noble  instinct  of  Christianity,  it  was 
Ihe  two  great  mendicant  orders  who  raised  that  devotion  to 
a  position  at  once  firm  and  exalted.  St.  Doniinick,  by  the 
establislimcnt  of  the  Rosary,  and  the  Franciscans,  by  preach* 
ing  the  doctflne  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  reared,  as  it 
wete,  two  majestic  coliimns,  the  one  of  practice,  the  other  of 


M 


IVTftODUOTIOJr. 


doctrine,  from  the  sammit  of  which  the  gracious  Queen  of 
Angels  presided  over  Catholic  piety  aud  Catholic  science. 
8t.  Boaaventore,  the  great  and  learned  theologian,  becomei 
a  poet  to  sing  her  praise,  and  twice  paraphrases  the  entirt 
Psalter  in  her  honour.*  All  the  worlu  and  all  the  institutioui 
of  th'^  *  period,  and  especially  all  the  inspirations  of  art  as  they 
have  been  preserved  to  us  in  her  great  ciilhedrals  and  in  the 
lays  of  her  poets,  manifest  an  immense  developmeot,  in  the 
heart  of  Christian  people,  of  tenderness  and  veneration  for 

Mar/.f 

Jn  the  very  bosom  of  the  Chnrch,  and  even  ontside  the 
two  families  of  St.  Dominick  and  St.  Francis,  the  devotion  to 
the  Blessed  Virgin  brought  forth  effects  as  precious  for  the 
^Ivation  of  souls,  as  venerable  for  their  duration.  Three 
xew  orders  were  consecrated  to  her  in  their  very  origin,  and 
placed  under  shelter  of  her  sacred  name.  That  of  Mount 
Carmel,!  emanating  from  the  Holy  Land,  as  the  best  produc- 
tion of  that  soil  so  fruitful  in  prodigies,  gave,  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  Scapular,  a  sort  of  new  standard  to  the  followers 
of  Mary.  Seven  merchants  of  Florence  founded  at  the  same 
time§  thai;  order  whose  very  name  denotes  the  pride  they 
experienced,  in  that  age  of  chivahric  devotion,  in  bending 
beneath  the  sweet  yoke  of  the  Queen  of  Heaven;  the  order  of 


*  BMldM  his  Specvhtm  B.  V.  JT,  which  ta,  pcrh^M^  th«  most  popniar  work  ofth* 
Biddle  ageci,  this  Saint  has  written  the  PmUm^wtm  Mqjut  B.  V.  Jf.,  which  is  com* 
posed  of  one  hundred  aud  fifty  psalms,  aaaloBeaa  to  those  of  David,  and  applied  to 
the  Blessed  Virgin ;  then  the  PmUerium,  Minute  which  consists  of  one  hundred 
tad  fifty  four-line  stansas;  finally  th«  Laut  B.  Y*  M^  and  a  paraphrase  on  tlia 
ScUta,  also  in  verse. 

t  It  was  in  1220  that  the  Margi«Te  Henry  of  Monvla,  aitd  his  wife  Agnes,  founded 
the  first  cbapsi  at  Mariazell,  in  Syria,  even  in  our  daysaflunons  and  popular  pDgrioi* 
tga  in  Germany.    It  was  only  in  1940  that  the  Av»  Maria  oanw  into  general  use. 

%  He  received  his  first  rnio  from  the  patriarch  Albert,  in  180t,  was  conflrmod  la 
1228,  heeame  a  mendicant  In  124T.  The  scapular  was  given  by  (he  Blessed  YUgli 
to  St  Simon  Stock,  who  died  about  1100. 

|Itil989.   Tha  order  vaaoonfitoMdnttboOoudlafX^ro^  la  IfTi, 


mtROOUOTlOll. 


57 


the  Sercitet  or  Serfi  of  Marj,  which  immcdiatelj  gave  to  th« 
Church  St.  Philip  Benizzi,  author  of  the  toncbing  devotion  of 
the  Seven  Dolors  of  the  Virgin.  At  length  that  cherished 
name  was  attached  to  an  institution  worthy  of  her  maternal 
heart — the  Order  of  Our  Lbdy  of  Mercy,*  intended  for  the 
ransom  of  Christian  captives  from  the  infidels.  She  had  her* 
self  appeared,  it  was  said,  on  the  same  night,  tc  King  James  of 
Aragon,  St.  Raymond  de  Penafort,  and  St.  Peter  Nolasqaes, 
beseeching  them  to  interest  themselves  for  her  sake  in  the  fate 
of  their  captive  brethren.  All  three  obeyed  ;  and  Peter 
became  the  chief  of  the  new  order,  which  made  a  rapid  prog- 
ress, and  soon  after  produced  that  St.  Raymond  Nonnat,  who 
sold  himself  to  redeem  a  slave,  and  who  was  gagged  by  the 
infidels,  so  invincible  did  they  find  his  words. 

This  same  object  of  mercy,  with  a  desire  for  the  propagtv 
tion  of  the  feith,  bad,  in  the  preceding  century,  under  tie 
auspices  of  Innocent  III.,  given  rise  to  the  order  of  the  Trim 
tarians,  by  the  united  efforts  of  two  Saints,  a  part  of  whose 
life  belongs  to  the  thirteenth  century,  St.  John  of  Matha,  and 
St.  Felix  of  Talms,  who  was  also  the  special  servant  of  Mary. 
For  six  hundred  years,  and  even  down  to  our  own  times, 
these  two  orders  have  coutmued  their  peaceful  but  periloiM 
crusade. 

Here  we  ha\e  already  no  less  than  five  new  orders,  all 
instituted  within  the  first  thirty  years  of  that  century;  nor  ii 
this  all ;  the  desire  to  unite  all  energies  for  good,  which  had 
its  principle  in  that  love  of  Ood  and  the  neighbour  which 
every  thing  then  tended  to  develop,  was  not  yet  satisfied ; 
other  religioM^  as  they  were  thenceforward  called,  wore  daily 
formed  in  the  bosom  of  the  mother-religion.  Len  ffumilih 
received  their  definitive  rule  from  Innocent  III,,  in  1301 ;  the 
Augustinians  (in  1256)  under  Alexander  lY.,  became  tte 


[  1i  IH^  appivftd  of  la  IML 


IHTBODUCTIOV. 


fourth'  branch  of  that  great  family  of  Mendicants,  in  which 
the  Carmeiiles  had  already  taken  their  place,  by  the  »uU-  of 
the  Friars  Minors  and  Preachers.  The  Celestines,  fouuduU  by 
Peter  de  Mouron,  who  was  afterwards  Pope  aitd  canonized 
andor  that  same  name  of  Celestine,  was  confirmed  by  Url)an 
IV.  (in  1263).  In  a  narrower  and  more  local  sphere,  St. 
Eugene  <  Strigonia  established  the  Hermits  of  St.  Paul,  in 
Hungar.  ^U  1215);  and  three  pious  professors  from  the  Uni« 
Tersity  of  Paris  retired  to  a  sequestered  valley  in  the  diocese 
of  Langrcs,  to  found  there,  with  thirty-seven  of  their  pupils, 
the  new  order  of  the  Val  des  EcoUers  (the  Yale  of  Scholars) 
(in  1218.)  Besides  all  these  numerous  and  divers  careers 
offered  to  the  zeal  and  devotion  of  those  who  wished  to  con<« 
secrate  themselves  to  God  ;  besides  the  great  military  orders 
of  the  East  and  of  Spain,  then  in  the  height  of  their  splen- 
dour, those  Christians  whom  either  duty  or  inclination  re- 
tained in  common  and  profane  life,  could  not  submit  to  lose 
their  share  in  that  life  of  prayer  and  sacrifice  which  con- 
stantly excited  their  envy  and  their  admiration. ,  They  organ- 
ised themselves,  as  much  as  possible,  under  an  analogous 
form.  This  accounts  for  the  appearance  of  the  Fratri  gaudeiUi 
or  Knights  of  the  Virgin  (in  1233),  who,  without  renouncing 
the  world,  applied  themselves  to  restore  peace  and  concord  in 
Italy,  in  honour  of  the  Virgin  ;  that  of  the  Beguins,  still  so 
numerous  in  Flanders,  and  who  have  taken  St.  Elizabeth  for 
Uieir  patroness  ;  finally,  the  immense  multitude  of  the  third 
f)rders  of  St.  Dominick  and  St.  Francis,  composed  of  married 
|iersons  and  those  who  lived  in  the  world,  yet  wished  to  draw 
uear  to  God.  It  was  the  monastic  life  introduced  mto  the 
tftmily  and  society. 

Then,  as  if  this  vast  wealth  of  sanctity  belonging  to  the 
4sew  orders  were  not  enough  for  that  glorious  tioie,  illustrious 
Saints  sprang  forth  simultaneously  from  the  ancient  orders, 
the  Episcopacy,  aud  all  ranks  of  the  faithful.    We  have  al- 


iVrROOUCTlOV.- 


59 


re»ilt  named  St.  Edmund,  Archbishop  of  Canterbory,  and  St 
Uedwige,  of  Poland,  who  became  a  Cistercian.  By  tlicir  side, 
in  the  order  of  Citeaux,  it  is  proper  to  place  St.  Quillaame, 
Arclibishop  of  Bourges,  another  famous  defender  of  ecclesias* 
lieal  freedom,  and  a  preacher  of  the  Crusade  ;  St.  Thibant  de 
Montmorency  (1247);  Etienne  de  Chatillon  (1208)  Bishop  of 
Die,  and  Philippe  Berruyer  (1266),  Archbishop  of  Bourges, 
both  beatified;  another  St.  Gnillaume,  abbot  of  the  Paraclete 
in  Denmark,  whither  he  had  brought  the  piety  and  learning 
of  the  canons  of  St.  OenevieTe  of  Paris,  whence  he  had  goc9 
forth  (died  in  1209);  in  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  St.  Sylvea- 
ter  d'Osimo  and  St.  William  of  Mbnte-Yirgine,  authors  of  the 
reforms  which  have  kept  their  names ;  in  the  order  of  Pre- 
montre,  the  B.  Hermann  Joseph  (1235),  so  famous  for  his 
ardent  devotion  to  the  Mother  of  Qod,  and  the  striking 
graces  which  he  received  from  her;  finally,  amongst  the  An- 
gustinians,  St.  Nicholas  of  Tolentino  (born  in  1239),  who, 
after  a  holy  life  of  seventy  years,  heard  every  night  the 
hymns  of  the  celestial  choirs,  and  was  so  transported  by 
them  that  he  could  no  longer  restrain  his  impatience  to  die. 
Amongst  the  holy  women,  was  the  Blessed  Mafalda,  daughter 
of  the  King  of  Portugal ;  the  B.  Marie  d'Oigines  (1213), 
and  that  sweet  St.  Humility  (born  in  1210),  abbess  of 
Yalombrense,  whose  very  name  describes  her  whole  life. 
Amongst  the  Virgins,  St.  Yerdiana,  the  austere  recluse  of 
Florence,  who  extended  even  to  serpents  her  invincible  ch»> 
\\jy  (died  in  1222);  St.  Zita,  who  lived  and  died  an  humble 
serv^ant  in  Lncca,  and  who  was  chosen  as  the  patroness  of  that 
powerful  republic ;  then  in  Germany,  St.  Gertrude  (bom  ill 
1222),  and  her  sister  St.  Mecthilda,  who  held  in  the  thir» 
teenth  century  the  same  place  that  St.  Hildegnrde  did  in  the 
twelfth  and  St.  Catherine  of  Sienna  in  the  fourteenth,  amongst 
those  vireius  to  whom  the  Lord  has  revealed  the  inner  ligfata 
of  hie  holv  Uw. 


fO  IHTRODUOTIOV. 

Lastly,  we  most  not  forget,  amongst  the  wonders  of  Elizas 
beth's  time,  that  work  which  every  succeeding  |ige  has  pro* 
oounced  unequalled,  The  Imitation  of  Christ,  whose  author 
has  never  been  clearly  ascertained,  tit  its  presumed  author, 
John  Gersen,  abbot  of  Yerceil,  lived  at  that  time,  and  lived 
in  the  most  perfect  conformity  with  the  spirit  of  that  divine 
book.  It  is  the  most  complete  and  sublime  formula  of  ardeu  i 
piety  towards  Christ,  written  at  a  period  which  had  already 
brought  forth  the  Rosary  and  the  Scapular  in  honour  of 
Mary,  and  which  closed  magnificently  with  the  institution  of 
the  feast  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  which  was  first  proposed 
by  a  poor  Ciste^ian  nun  (bt.  Juliana,  of  Liege),  confirmed 
by  the  miracle  of  Bolsena,*  and  song  by  St.  Thomas  of 
Aquinas.f 

We  have  no  apprehensions  of  being  censured  for  dwelling 
too  long  on  t?ils  enumeration  of  the  Saints  and  religious  insti> 
ttttions  of  a  period  which  it  is  our  wish  fiiUy  to  represent ; 
Any  man  who  had  made  a  careful  study  of  the  middle  ages, 
must  know  per\ct!y  well  that  those  are  the  true  pivots  on 
which  society  111  en  turned  ;  that  the  creation  of  a  new  ordot 
Was  then  univei&\itly  considered  as  of  greater  importance  than 
the  formation  of  r  new  kingdom  or  the  promulgation  of  a  new 
code;  that  Saintt  \-'ere  then  the  true  heroes,  and  that  they  en- 
grossed nearly  all  Mi*)  popularity  of  the  time.  It  is  only  when 
one  has  appreciated  ^h^.  part  which  prayer  and  miracles  played 
tn  public  opinion,  an^  ttudled  and  comprehended  the  career 
of  a  St.  Francis  and  a  .S(  DiuLMck,  that  he  can  account  for 
the  presence  and  the  ac^-icx  A  an  Innocent  III.  and  a  S% 
Louis. 


•  The  fbstlTal  was  instttated  In  ISM,  b>  Tt^tc  IF.,  <n  *m ne^^  .tf  f^ls  vK  la*^ 
t  Be  U  known  to  bsve  drawn  up  the  00».>  a*  i^«  M  aik  tf  *bi  UrXy  '^oceoM 
mA  bt  recognised  as  author   f  the  pnae  Latidu  Sitt   A'Uk  tlk  k  MKH^nk'e  j»v  ^ 


a  '0 


IVTBODUOTIOV. 


•I 


u 


Bat  it  was  not  only  the  political  world  that  was  controlled 
Gatuolic  faith  aad  Catholic  thought:  in  its  majestic  auttj, 
^raced  all  the  hniQaa  mind,  and  associated  or  employed 
all  its  developments.  Ilence  its  power  and  its  glory  art 
profoundly  impressed  on  all  the  productious  of  art  and  poetry 
of  that  period,  whilst,  far  from  restraining,  it  sanctified  and 
consecrated  the  progress  of  science.  Wherefore  we  find  thai 
this  thirteenth  century,  so  prolific  for  the  faith,  was  not  mor« 
barren  for  science.  We  have  already  mentioned  Roger  Bacon 
and  Vincent  de  Beauvais  ;  their  names  are  synonymous  with 
the  study  of  nature,  purified  and  ennobled  by  religion,  as  also 
the  iLtroductiou  of  the  spirit  of  classification  and  generalisa- 
tion in  directing  the  intellectual  wealth  of  men.  We  have 
named  St.  Thomas  and  his  contemporaries  in  thb  Mendicant 
Orders  ;  his  name  recalls  the  most  glorious  era  ot  theology^- 
the  first  of  sciences.  The  Angelic  Doctor  and  the  Seraphic 
Doctor  criticised  at  will  the  famous  Peter  Lombard,  the  i/o^ 
ter  of  SenttnceH,  who  had  so  long  controlled  the  schools  ;  nor 
must  we  forget  either  Allan  de  Lille,  the  Universal  Doctor^ 
who  was  still  living  in  the  first  years  of  that  century,  nor 
Guillaume  Durand,  who  illustrated  its  cluse,  and  gave  th» 
most  complete  Liturgical  code  in  his  Mationale,  Most  of 
these  great  men  embraced  at  once  theology,  philosophy  and 
law,  and  their  names  belong  equally  to  those  three  sciences. 
Raymond  Lulle,  entitled  by  his  holy  life  to  the  distinctioQ 
of  Blessedf  belongs  more  especially  to  philosophy.  The  trans* 
lation  of  the  works  of  Aristotle,  undertaken  through  the 
Influence  of  Frederick  II.,  and  which  attained  such  rapid 
popularity,  opened  before  the  latter  science  new  and  untrod- 
den fields,  which  were  only  opening  on  the  world  at  the  pe- 
riod of  which  we  write.  Legislation  was  never  in  a  more 
prosperous  condition.  On  one  side,  the  Popes,  supreme  or* 
^ns  both  of  faith  and  right,  developed  the  canon  law  ai 
became  that  magnificent  bulwark  of  Christian  civilisatioii,  pi» 


IVTKODVOTIOf . 


•ided  as  Jndges  with  excmplarj  aitidiiity,*  pabliahed  imiDenM 
collect  ioiiB,  and  foiiDded  oumenius  schools.  On  the  other 
hand,  were  seen  springing^  up  roost  of  the  national  codes  of 
Kurope,  the  great  mirrors  of  Suablft  and  Saxony,  the  first 
laws  published  in  German  by  Frederic  IL  at  the  diet  of 
Maycnce,  the  code  given  by  him  to  Sicily;  in  France,  tho 
establishments  of  St.  Louis,  together  witV.  tne  Common  Law 
of  Peter  des  Fontaines,  and  that  of  Beauvoisis  by  Philip  do 
Beaumanoir ;  Anally,  the  French  version  of  the  Sessions  of 
JerumUm,  wherein  is  formed  the  most  complete  summary  of 
Christian  and  chivalric  law.  All  these  precious  monnmenta 
of  the  ancient  Christian  orgiknisation  of  the  world,  have  come 
down  to  us  even  in  the  Teroacnlar  tongues,  and  arc  still  less 
distinguished  by  that  mark,  than  by  their  generous  and  pious 
spirit,  from  that  fatal  Roman  law,  whose  progress  was  soon 
to  change  all  the  principles  of  Catholic  society.  Hand  in 
hand  with  these  intellectual  sciences,  medicine  flourished  in 
its  capitals;  Montpellier  and  Salerno,  still  influenced  by,  and 
in  alliance  with,  the  Church  :  and  Pope  John  XXI.,  before 
he  ascended  the  |)ontifical  throne,  found  leisure  to  compose 
the  Treasure  of  the  Poor— -or  Manual  of  the  Art  of  Healing. 
The  introduction  of  algebra  and  of  Arabic  figares,f  the  inven* 
tion,  or  at  least  the  general  adoption  of  the  Mariner's  Com- 
pass, also  signalise  that  period  as  one  of  the  most  important 
in  the  history  of  man. 

But  it  is  still  more  in  art  that  the  creative  genius  of  that 
age  is  manifested :  for  it  was  the  period  which  saw  the  devel« 
opment  of  that  sweet  and  majestic  power  of  Christian  art, 
whose  splendour  was  only  to  pale  under  the  Medici,  at  the 


*  Innocent  Ilf .  ut  In  Judgment  three  thnee  e  week ;  Gregory  IX.,  Innoeenl 
IT^  end  Bonilkce  YIIL,  were  fiunous  Uwyerib  We  have  already  ^ken  nf  St.  B»f 
mood  dA  Penafort  and  Gardlnal  Henry  Suaon,  placed  hy  Dante  in  his  ParadiM, 

t  It  took  place  in  Italy,  aador  Frederick  11^  by  Leooard  Tlbonaed,  and  la 
under  Sb  LmIbi 


IVriODUOTIOV.  ii 

lime  of  wLai  is  called  the  JUwivai^  being  nothing  else  *liaB 
the  revival  of  pngan  idoiatrj  in  arts  and  Uftten.*  It  it  this 
thirteenth  century  that  commcncea  with  Cimubue  an^  tlie 
CutheUral  of  CologuOf  that  long  series  of  spiectlour  which  Mmit 
but  with  Ittphael  and  the  dome  of  Milan.  Architecture,  the 
firat  of  arts  in  duration,  popularity,  and  religious  sanction, 
was  also  to  be  the  first  subjected  to  the  new  iiiduenuo  dev«*l 
oped  among  Christian  nations,  the  first  to  illustrate  theil 
great  and  holy  thoughts.  It  seems  that  that  immenMe  move- 
ment of  souls  represented  by  St.  Dorainick,  St  Francis,  and 
St.  Louis,  could  have  no  other  expression  than  those  gigantic 
cathedrals,  which  appear  as  though  they  would  bear  to  heaven, 
on  the  summit  of  their  spires,  the  universal  homage  of  the 
love  and  the  victorious  faith  of  Christians.  The  vast  basilica 
of  the  preceding  ages  seemed  to  them  too  bare,  too  heavy,  too 
ampty,  for  the  new  emotions  of  their  piety,  for  the  renovated 
fervonr  of  their  faith.  That  ^ivid  flame  of  faith  required  the 
means  of  transforming  itself  into  stone,  and  thus  bequeathing 
itself  to  posterity.  Pontiffs  and  artists  sought  some  new  com* 
bination  which  might  lead  and  adapt  itself  to  all  the  new 
treasures  of  the  Catholic  spirit ;  they  found  it  in  followinj^ 
those  columns  which  arise,  opposite  each  other  in  the  Chris- 
tian basilic,  like  prayers  which,  meeting  before  Qod,  bend  and 
embrace  like  sisters :  in  that  embrace  they  found  the  ogee. 
By  its  appearance,  which  only  became  general  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  all  is  modified,  not  in  the  inner  and  mysterious  menn< 
ing  of  religions  edifices,  but  in  their  exterior  form.  Instead 
of  extending  over  the  ground  like  vast  roofs  destined  for  the 
ihelter  of  the  faithful,  all  begins  then  to  dart  upwards  towards 


AtfaMMHirTI-  oa 


) 

*  Most  people  are  ^qnalnted  with  the  *xe)«inat{ca of  Pope  AImmmmTI., 
■rrivtng  In  Rome,  after  the  death  of  Len  X.,  at  alfrlit  of  all  the  ancient  statnes  whkk 
had  been  dit^interred :  Proh!  idola  barbaroruml  It  waa  certainly  dictated  a* 
nach  bjr  a  Jnat  senttmMl  «tf  Ohrlatiao  art  m  bj  tbf  ptooB  amotloa  of  tha  bead  of  Um 
OMbolk  Church. 


1^  IVTBODUOMOV* 

• 

tlie  Most  nigh.    The  horlxontal  line  gradoally  diMppeoni,  in 
the  pruralent  idea  of  elevation,  the  hcareDward  tendency  of 
the  age.    Dating  from  this  momentf  no  more  crypts^  no  mora 
iobterraneous  churches,  the  geniu  of  Christianity  baring 
nothing  more  to  fear,  will  tnUj  manifest  itself  before  tho 
world.   "  Qod  wills  no  longer,''  says  the  Titunl^  tho  greateel 
poem  of  tho  time,  and  furnishing  the  most  perfect  theory  of 
Christian  architecture — "  Qod  wills  no  longer  that  bis  chosen 
people  should  assemble  in  a  timid  and  disgraceful  manner  in 
boles  and  caverns.''    As  they  chose  to  shed  their  blood  for 
Qod  in  the  Crusades,  that  choun  people  will  now  give  their 
toil,  their  imagination,  their  poesy,  to  raise  up  suitable  palaces 
for  the  same  Qod.    Innumerable  beanties  everywhere  abound 
in  that  sprouting  of  the  earth  fructified  by  Catholicity,  and 
which  seems  reproduced  in  every  church  by  the  marvelloit 
foliage  of  the  capitals,  windows  and  small  steeples.    It  would 
lead  us  much  too  far  were  we  to  ent«r  upon  the  detail  of  tho 
grandeur  and  poetry  given  to  the  world  by  that  architectural 
transformation  of  the  thirteenth  century.    We  shall  confine 
ourselves  to  the  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  the  first  and 
most  complete  production — at  least  in  Qermany — of  the 
Gothic  or  offival   style   of   architecture    was    the    church 
built  over  the  tomb  of  ih«  dear  St.  Elizabeth*  with  tb« 
olferings  of  the  numberless  pilgrims  who  crowded  thither. 
We  must  also  give  a  passing  glance  at  some  of  the  immortal 
cathedrals  which  rose  at  the  same  time  in  every  part  of  Chris- 
tian Europe,  and  which,  if  not  all  finished  then,  hod  their 
plan  drawn  by  the  hand  of  men  of  genius,  who  disdained  to 
leare  us  their  name  ;  the;y  loved  Qod  and  their  brethren  too 
much  to  love  glory.    There  was  in  Qermany,  besides  Mar* 
tourg,  Cologne,  (1246)  the  model  church,  where  the  trott 

of  falthfnl  generations  has  been  betrayed  by  their  posteritji- 

II  .■      ■  I  I  ii» 

•  M.  Moller,  •  flunons  Qcrmaa  waUtoet  ^  vu  tmn  timMt,  hM  fnMhibiS  ¥  ftMr 
tiriaoM  •zdoiiv*)/  on  this  ehuroli.   (fi—  ah.  xmxI  of  oar  bistory.) 


tXTAODUCTlOy. 


«i 


bat  which,  nipeudol  io  Ita  glorj,  i%  as  It  wcr«,  a  clwllcafi 
to  modem  impoteoce  ;  Cologne,  which  foruu  with  Strasbiirg 
and  Friburg,  the  magoiftccnt  Uothic  trilogy  of  the  Rhine. 
In  France,  Chartret,  dedicated  in  12C0,  after  a  century  and 
a  iialf  of  patient  perseverance;  Bhekna  (1232,)  the  Cathedra* 
of  the  monarchy;  Auxerre  (18L5;)  Amiens  (1228;)  Beanvaif 
(1250,)  La  Sainte  Chapelle  and  St.  Dcuis;  tlie  front  of  Notr« 
Dame  (1223;)  in  Belgiuni,  St.  Qudule  of  BriisRels  (1226,) 
and  the  church  of  the  Downs  {DuMt,)  built  by  four  hundred 
monks  in  fifty  years  (1214-1262;)  in  Rnglaud,  Salisbury,  the 
fittest  of  all,  (1220;)half  of  York  Minster,  (1227-1260;)  the 
choir  of  that  of  Ely  (1235;)  the  nav«  of  Durham,  (12x2,)  and 
the  national  abbey  of  Westminster,  (1247:)  in  Spain,  Burgos 
and  Toledo,  founded  by  St.  Ferdinand,  (122b;)  and  Jmost  .J 
these  colossal  works  undertaken  and  accomplished  by  vud 
single  city  or  chapter,  whilst  the  moat  powerful  k'ncrdoms  of 
our  time  wonld  be  unable,  with  all  their  fiseality,  t«  achiere 
even  one  such  glorious  and  consoling  victory  of  humanity  and 
faith  over  incredulous  pride:  a  victory  which  even  then  aston- 
ished simple  souls,  and  drew  from  a  monk  that  cry  of  noble 
surprise — "  How  is  it  that  in  hearts  so  humble  there  is  &• 
proud  a  genius  V* 

Christian  sculpture  could  not  but  share  in  the  progresf 
of  architecture,  and  it  then  commenced  to  bear  its  finest 
fruits.  Those  goodly  rows  of  Saints  and  Angels  which  adorn 
the  fafades  of  the  cathedrals,  then  (chf^^^  forth  from  stone. 
Then  was  introduced  the  uae  of  those  tombs  whereon  we  see 
— recFming  in  the  calm  sleep  of  tbe  just-^the  husband  and 
wife  together,  their  hands  sometimes  joined  in  death  as  they 
bad  been  in  life — where  the  mother  still  lay  in  the  midst  of 
her  children ;  these  statues  so  grave,  so  pious,  so  touching, 
impressed  with  all  the  serenity  of  Christian  death  ;  the  head 
supported  by  little  aagets^  who  seem  to  ha^e  received  th« 
lateit  sigh ;  the  legs  crossed,  if  the  warrior  had  been  to  tlii 


60 


XNTRODUCTIOir. 


Crusades.  The  relics  of  Saints  brought  in  such  numbers  from 
conquered  Byzantium,  or  incessantly  furnished  by  the  beatifi- 
cation of  contemporary  virtue,  gave  perpetual  employment 
for  the  Catholic  sculptor  and  goldsmith.  The  gorgeously-deco- 
rated shrine  of  St.  Elizabeth  is  a  monument  of  the  fecundity 
of  those  arts,  then  inspired  by  fervent  piety.  The  shrine  of 
St.  Qenevieve  won  for  its  author,  Ralph  the  goldsmith,  the 
first  letters  of  nobility  giren  in  France;  and  thus  it  was  tha-t, 
in  Christian  society,  art  prevailed,  before  riches,  over  the 
inequality  of  birth. 

With  regard  to  painting,  although  it  was  only  in  its  in- 
fancy, it  already  gave  tokens  of  its  future  glory.  The  large 
windows,  which  just  then  came  into  general  use,  opened  a 
new  field  for  its  operations  by  shedding  on  all  the  ceremonies 
of  religion  a  new  and  mysterious  light.  The  surprising  Mass- 
hook  miniatures  of  St.  Louis  and  of  the  Miracles  of  th» 
Blessed  Virgin^  by  Qauthier  de  Coinsy,  which  are  seen  in  the 
royal  Library,  show  what  Christian  inspiration  could  already 
produce.  In  Germany  began  already  to  dawn  that  school  of 
the  Lower  Rhine,  so  pure,  so  mystical,  which  was,  in  a  pecu- 
liar manner,  to  unite  the  charm  and  purity  of  expression  with 
the  splendour  of  colouring.  The  popularity  of  this  rising  art 
was  already  so  great,  that  the  ideal  of  beauty  was  no  longer 
sought  in  fallen  nature,  but  in  those  deep  and  mysterious 
types  the  secret  of  which  had  been  found  by  humble  artists 
in  their  pious  meditations.* 

Italy  we  have  not  yet  named,  because  she  merits  a  separate 
place  in  this  rapid  enumeration.  In  fact,  that  eternal  inherit- 
ance of  beauty  preceded  and  surpassed  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  in  the  culture  of  Christian  art ;  Pisa  and  Sienna,  even 


*  WolfVata  d'Esehonbaeh,  oira  of  the  most  eolebnitad  poots  of  Qermanj  irt  that 
pitriod  (1380X  In  order  ■jo  give  tn  Idee  uf  the  beeaty  of  one  of  liis  boroea,  u.j%  thai 
Ihepaitters  of  Cologne  or  of  Meeetrioht  eould  not  have  made  him  flilrai;— >PaHaTaBl 
7MA«<r«{M,  p.  MS. 


IVTBODUOTIOK. 


67 


n3w  80  loYcly  in  their  sadoess  aad  desertion,  served  as  the 
cradle  of  that  art,  and  prepared  the  way  for  Florence,  which 
was  to  become  its  first  capital.    Though  adorned  within  the 
previous  century  by  many  admirable  buildings,  Pisa  was 
r  'eparing  the  exquisite  gem  of  Santa^Maria  della  Spina 
1230),  and  also  the  Gampo-Santo,*  the  distinctive  monu* 
lent  of  the  faith,  the  glory  and  the  genius  of  a  Christiao 
ty  ;  Sienna  would  build  a  new  cathedral  (1225)  which 
/ould  have  surpassed  all  others  if  it  could  have  been  com- 
leted.    In  these  two  cities,  Nicholas  Pisanf  and  his  illustrious 
amily  founded  that  sculpture  so  lively  and  so  pure  which  gave 
neart  and  soul  to  stone,  and  was  only  to  end  with  the  pulpit 
of  Santa-Croce  in  Florence.     Giunta  of  Pisa  and  Guido  of 
Sienna  commenced,  at  the  same  time,  the  grave  and  inspired 
school  of  painting  which  was  so  soon  to  wax  great  under 
Cimabue  and  Giotto,  till  it  reached  the  heavens  with  the 
blessed  monk  of  Fiesola.   Florence  hailed  a  work  of  Cimabue 
<is  a  triumph,  and  imagined  that  an  angel  had  come  from 
heaven  to  paint  that  truly  angelic  head  of  Mary,  in   the 
Auiiunciation,  which  is  still  venerated  there.];     Orvieto  be- 
held a  cathedral  arise  worthy  of  figuring  among  those  of  the 
North  (1206-1214).     Naples  had,  under  Frederick  XL,  her 
first  painter  and  her    first  sculptor. §      Finally,    Assisium 
erected,  in  her  triple  and  pyramidal  Church,  over  the  tomb 
of  St.  Francis,  the  sanctuary  of  the  arts  and  of  fervent  faith. 
More  than  one  Franciscan  was  already  distinguished  m  paint- 
nir :  but  the  influence  of  St.  Francis  over  lay-artists  was 


'<-] 


'o  ) 


jimense.    They  seemed  to  have  found  the  secret  of  all  their 


*  The  p\tm  was  eonedvcd  In  IKW,  bj  the  ArehbUhop  Ubaldo,  bot  wm  net  p«l 
Bto  exflentlon  till  19TS. 

t  Flourlibed  ftom  1107  till  1280;  bU  nuNter-pteeee  are  the  pulpit  of  the  bepthtcrj 
•r  Pisa,  tliat  ot  the  dome  of  Sienna,  and  the  tonb  of  St  Dr  minlek  In  Bolojpa. 

X  Intbe(%arebof  thOiStrvilM,'  It  waa  painted,  a«oo»  log  to  the  Inaeriptloa,  li 
rS59. 

%  Tommaaao  de  Bteflml  and  W  1»  laa  If  aaaoealab 


•s 


INTRODUCTIOV. 


Inspiration  in  bis  prodigious  development  of  the  element  of 
love  ;  his  life  and  that  of  St.  Clare  were  henceforward  eliosen 
Tor  sobjects  as  well  as  the  life  of  Christ  and  His  Mother ; 
ftnd  all  the  celebrated  painters  of  that  and  the  succeeding 
«ge  hastened  to  offer  a  tribute  to  his  memory  by  adorning 
with  their  paintings  the  basilic  of  Assisium.  In  that  neigh* 
bourhood  was  also  to  spring  up  the  mystic  school  of  the 
Ombrla,  which,  in  Perngino  and  Raphael,  (before  his  fall.^f 
attained  the  highest  perfection  of  Christian  art.  One  would  ' 
have  said  that,  in  his  sweet  and  marvelloas  justice,  God  would 
confer  the  crown  of  art,  the  fairest  ornament  of  the  world, 
on  that  place  whence  he  had  received  the  most  fervent 
prayers  and  the  noblest  sacrifices.* 

If  art  were  already  so  rich  at  the  time  of  which  we  speak, 
and  responded  so  well  to  the  movement  of  Christian  souls, 
what  shall  we  not  say  of  poetry,  its  sister  ?  Never,  certainly, 
has  she  played  a  part  so  popnlar  and  universal  as  she  then 
did.  Europe  seemed  then  one  vast  manufactory  of  poetry, 
sending  out  every  day  some  fiaished  work,  some  new  cycle. 
It  is  that,  setting  aside  the  abundance  of  inspirations,  the 
nations  began  to  wield  an  instrument  which  was  to  lend  an 
immense  force  to  the  development  of  their  imagination.  In 
fact,  this  first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  which  we  hare 
already  seen  so  productive,  was  also  the  period  of  the  growth 
-ftnd  expansion  of  all  the  living  tongues  of  Europe,  when  they 
began  all  at  once  to  produce  those  monuments  which  have 
come  down  to  us.  Translations  of  the  Bible,  codes  of  laws, 
IVamed  for  tbe  first  time  in  modern  idioms,  prove  their  grow- 
ing importance.    Each  nation  found  thus  at  its  disposal  u 


*  All  that  we  l>iins  flirtrard  on  palntinf  and  general  art,  tnd  Mpedanj  on  tba 
lnflu«ne«  of  St  Franola,  Is  established  and  eloqnentlf  developed  In  M.  Rfo^s  Intok, 
•ntltleol,  Df  la  pHnUirn  ChreZffnnt  en  JHntU  (Christian  paintln;  In  Italy).  That 
work  has  already  effected  a  salutary  revolation  in  the  study  and  appreclatloa  of  m  I 
Mb  la  Frahoa  and  Ita^. 


ivvBODiroTiev^ 


Iphere  of  activitj  tU  fresh  for  its  thoogbt,  wherein  the 
Dational  geains  might  redeem  itself  at  will.  Prose  wa^  formed 
for  history,  and  there  were  soon  seen  chronicles  made  for  the 
people,  and  often  by  themselves,  taking^  their  |^ce  beside 
those  Latin  chronicles,  so  long  despised,  and  yet  containing 
so  much  eloquence,  so  many  beauties  quite  unknown  to  classic 
Latin.*  Yet  still  poetry  long  maintained  the  supremacy 
arising  from  its  right  of  primogenitnre.  It  was  then  seen  td 
assume,  in  almost  every  country  of  Europe,  those  forms  which 
Pagan  or  modern  civilization  attribute  to  themselves.  The 
Epic,  the  Ode,  the  Elegy,  the  Satire, — ^nay,  the  Drama  itself, 
were  all  as  familiar  to  the  poets  of  that  age  as  to  those  of 
the  time  of  Augustus  and  of  Louis  XI V.  And  when  their 
works  are  read  with  the  sympathy  arising  from  a  religions 
faith  identical  with  theirs,  with  an  impartial  estimate  of  a 
society  wherein  soul  prevails  sO  far  over  matter,  with  a  very 
natural  indifference  for  the  rales  of  modern  versification,  we 
ask  ourselves  what  then  has  been  invented  by  the  writers  of 
Bucceeding  ages  ?  We  seek  to  ascertain  what  thought  and 
imagination  have  gained  in  exchange  for  the  pure  treasures 
they  have  lost.  For,  be  it  known,  that  every  subject  worthy 
of  literary  attention  was  sung  by  those  unknown  poets,  and 
by  them  brought  under  the  notice  of  their  cotemporaries ; 
God  and  heaven,  nature,  love,  glory,  country,  great  men- 
nothing  escaped  them.  There  is  not  a  recess  of  the  soiil 
vbich  they  did  not  disclose,  not  a  vein  of  feelmg  wbk;h  they 
did  not  explore,  not  a  fibre  of  the  hdman  heart  which  thoy 
did  not  stir,  not  a  chord  of  that  immortal  lyre  from  which 
they  drew  aot  forth  delicious  harmony. 


i 

y 


*  We  oonid  cite  no  better  ezMnple  than  the  life  of  St.  EUsabeth  by  Theodorie  of 

I  Thiiiingta;  the  fV«qnent  qaotntions  which  we  rihall  make  ft-otn  it  in  the  ootme  of  «mff 

■arrative  will  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  what  it  is.    Amongst  the  principal  Lalia 

historios  of  tliat  time  we  must  elte  Saxo  Qrammaticns,  for  the  Scandinavian  kinf> 

I  loms ;  Father  Ylnecttt  KadhiUk,  fbr  Pdaod,  iM.  OMrdlJiil  iMfiles  d«  Yttrr,  «r  tht 

OriuadM^ 


fO 


IMTBODUOTIOV. 


To  begin  with  France  ;  not  only  had  its  langaage,  forni  i 
by  the  bards  of  the  preceding  century,  and  perhaps  by  tha 
B&rmons  of  St.  Bernard,  become  a  national  treasure,  but  it 
gained  under  St.  Louis  that  European  ascendancy  which  it 
has  never  since  \mi  Whilst  Dante's  master,  Brunetto  Latini, 
wrote  his  Tesoro^  n  species  of  encyclopaedia,  in  French,  be- 
cause it  was,  ac?<>rd  ag  to  him,  the  most  common  language  of 
the  West,  St.  Francis  sung  hymns  in  French  along  the  streets.* 
French  prose,  which  was  to  be  the  weapon  of  St.  Bernard  and 
of  Bossnet,  opened  with  Yillehardouin  and  Joluville  the  series 
of  those  great  models  whom  no  nation  has  ever  surpassed ; 
but  in  France,  as  in  all  other  countries,  poesy  was  then  much 
more  prolific  and  more  highly  relished.  We  shall  say  nothing 
of  the  Proyen9al  literature  of  the  Troubadours,  although  it 
has  withstood  the  test  of  modern  criticism,  and  although  it 
was  still  in  all  its  splendour  in  the  thirteenth  century.  We 
pass  it  over  because  we  think  it  contains  no  Catholic  element 
— because  it  rarely,  if  ever,  soars  higher  than  the  worship  of 
material  beauty,  and  represents,  with  some  exceptions,  tb» 
materialistic  and  immoral  tendency  of  the  southern  heresies 
of  those  times.  In  the  north  of  France,  on  the  contrary, 
together  with  some  fables  and  certain  metrical  works  which 
approached  too  near  the  licentious  character  of  the  Trouba- 
dours, the  national  and  Catholic  epic  appeared  in  all  its  lustre. 
The  two  great  cycles  wherein  is  concentrated  the  highest 
poetry  of  the  Catholic  ages — that  of  the  Carlovingian  epics, 
and  that  of  the  Round  Table  and  St.  Oraal,  initiated  in  the 
preceding  century  by  Chrestlen  of  Troyes,  with  those  Romans 
(Romances)  whose  popularity  was  immense.  The  Roman  dt 
Ronfevaux,  as  we  now  possess  it,  those  of  Oerard  de  Neven, 
of  Partenopex  de  Blots,  of  Bertha  witJi  the  long  foot^  of  Renara 


*  It  Ib  eTCB  Mid  Utai  his  dmim  of  Fruiofai  (FranfoU),  was  given  Mm,  Iintw4  «C 
■Is  Iktbcr'ft  nsuok  boMuss  of  bis  grsak  oommuid  uf  th«  Frsocli  laagusfk 


XHTBODUOTIOV. 


ft 


ie  Jfontauban,  of  the  /bur  atmt  of  Aymon^  those  transfigura- 
tioM  of  French  traditions  are  all  of  that  period;  as  also 
those  of  Renari  and  la  Boatj  which  have  longer  maintained 
a  certain  repate.  More  than  two  handred  poets,  whose  works 
naTe  come  down  to  us,  floorished  in  that  age  :*  one  daj,  per- 
haps Catholics  will  take  it  into  their  heads  to  go  seek  iu  their 
works  some  of  the  most  charming  productions  of  the  Chris* 
tian  muse,  instead  of  believing,  on  the  word  of  the  sycophant 
Boilean,  that  poetry  only  came  into  France  with  Malherbe. 
We  mnst  also  name  amongst  these  poets  Tbibanlt,  King  of 
Navarre,  who  sang  the  Crosade  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  with 
sach  pure  enthusiasm,  who  won  the  praises  of  Daute,  and, 
when  dying,  left  his  heart  to  the  poor  Clares  whom  he  had 
founded  at  Provins  ;  his  friend,  Auboin  de  Sezanne,  Raoul  do 
Coucy,  whose  name  at  least  is  still  popular,  killed  at  Mas* 
soura,  under  the  eyes  of  St.  Louis  ;  the  prior  Gauthier  da 
Coinsy,  who  raised  so  fair  a  monument  to  Mary  in  his  Mira 
ties ;  then  that  woman  of  unknown  origin,  but  whose  talentii 
and  national  success  have  woe  for  her  the  honourable  title  of 
Mary  of  France  ;  finally  Rutebeuf,  who  thought  he  could  find 
no  heroine  more  illustrious  to  celebrate  than  our  Elizabeth. 
At  the  same  time  Stephen  Langton,  whom  we  have  already  . 
mentioned  as  Primate  of  England  and  author  of  the  Magna 
Gharta,  intermingled  his  sermons  with  verse,  and  wrote  the  . 
first  drama  known  by  the  moderns,  ^he  scene  of  which  is  ia 
heaven,  where  Truth,  Justice,  Mercy,  and  Peace  discuss  the 
fate  of  Adam  after  his  fall,  and  are  reconciled  by  Jesus 
Christ.f    We  here  only  glance  over  a  period  when  poetry 


*  Sm  their  ennmention  In  th«  lAterary  BUtory  of  Framoe^  t  ztL  tad  zvll.; 
Bequefort,  State  of  Frtneh  Poetry;  P.  Paris,  l»  Boman^wro  Franeatt, 

i  Detorne,  Arob.'voltgia,  t  xiiL  Jean  Bodel  of  Arres  is  regarded  as  the  mail 
dlsMngiilshed  dramatie  poet  of  that  period ;  his  fine  drama  entitled  Jeu  ds  SaiM 
I  Jficotatt  luM  been  mad*  Iumwb  to  q»  by  M.  Oneabne  Loroy,  in  Ua  worlt  Mt  tte 
Hritoriec 


t% 


|>l»TJl09V«TI0*r 


was  so  popular  ani\0D)i*9t  the  French  that  St.  Louia  discUteed 
not  to  admit  to  bi8  royal  table  minstrels,  or  itinerant  poets, 
and  that  those  very  men  coald  free  themselves  from  all  toll 
by  mean?  of  a  song. 

In  Germany,  tbe  thirteenth  century  is  the  most  luatroai 
period  of  this  admirable  medieval  poeti^.  Bucli  is  tb&  nnar^l* 
mous  opinion  of  the  nomerous  literati  who  l.iu\e  .<»'j'jce(  led  frr 
a  time  in  rendering  it  once  more  popular  <n  that  country. 
For  ourselves,  we  are  deeply  convinced  that  no  poetry  is 
finer,  none  impressed  with  so  much  freshne^  of  heart  ^t3 
thought — with  enthusiasm  so  arrknt,  with  purity  so  sincere : 
nowhere,  in  fliiie,  did  the  new  elemeut^  planted  by  C-  istianity 
in  tii:"*  haman  imagination  obtain  a  moro  noble  tii^imph.  Would 
that  we  co;»M  depict  in  their  true  colours  the  exquisite  emo- 
tions we  c"^ joyed  when,  in  studying  the  i^e  of  Elizabeth  under 
every  igi>8^>eot,  wc  opened  the  volumes  wtiere  this  marvellona 
beuuty  fJeeps  unnoticed  1  With  what  surprise  and  admiration 
did  we  behold  all  that  gface,  refinement,  melancholy,  which 
would  seem  reserved  fDr  the  world's  maturity,  united  to  the 
artless  simplicity,  the  ardent  and  grave  piety,  of  the  primitive 
ages  \  Whilst  the  epic  of  purely  Qermanic  and  Scandinavian 
origin  develops  itself  there  in  the  train  of  the  Niebelungen,* 
that  magnificent  Iliad  of  the  Germanic  tribes,  the  doable 
French  and  Breton  oyde,  of  wbich  we  have  spoken  above, 
finds  sublime  interpreters  there  in  poets  who  well  knew  how, 
while  preserving  the  subject  ma^tter  of  foreign  traditions,  to 
■tamp  their  woito  with  incontestible  nationality.  Their  names 
an  still  almost  unknown  in  France,  as  were  those  of  Schiller 
and  Goethe  thirty  years  ago  ;  but.  perchance,  they  may  not 
always  remain  so.  The  greatest  of  these,  Wolfram  d'Eschen- 
oach,  gave  to  his  country  an  admirable  version  of  the  Parceval, 


*  This  Mtekmted'  poMi,  M  w 
Htlrteenth  centoiy. 


or«M 


laTBODUOTIOV. 


n 


moat  lugtfoai 


and  tue  onlj  one  that  is  oow  extant  of  the  Tiiurti,  tkat 
masterpiece  of  Catholic  genius  which  we  may  not  fear  to 
place,  in  the  enumeration  of  its  glories,  immediately  after  the 
Divine  Comedy.  Contemporaneously  with  it,  Qodefroi  of 
Strasburg  published  the  Tristan,  wherein  are  summed  up  the 
ideas  of  the  chivalric  f^es  on  love,  together  with  the  fairest 
legends  of  the  Round  Table ;  and  Hartmonn  de  I'Aue  the 
Twain,  at  the  same  time  as  the  exquisite  legend  of  pauvre 
Henri,  wherein  that  knightly  poet  takes  for  his  heroine  a 
poor  peasant  girl,  and  delights  to  centre  in  her  all  the 
noblest  inspirations  of  devotion  and  sacrifice  that  the  faith 
and  the  habits  of  his  time  could  give — the  contempt  of  life 
and  its  fleeting  goods,  the  love  of  heaven  and  heavenly  things. 
How  many  other  religious  and  national  epics  were  then  com- 
posed which  it  would  now  be  superfluous  even  to  name  \* 
Nor  was  the  lyric  genius  less  prolific  than  the  epic  on  that 
rich  Q-erman  soil.  The  ignorant  and  pedantic  criticism  of 
the  unbelieving  ages  has  not  been  able  to  efface  the  national 
remembrance  of  that  brilliant  and  numerous  phalanx  of  love* 
singers  {Minnesoenger)^  which  came  forth  between  1180  and 
1250  from  the  ranks  of  German  chivalry,  having  at  its  head, 
in  rankj  the  Emperor  Henry  YI.,  but  in  genius,  Walter  de 
Yogelweide,  whose  writings  are,  as  it  were,  the  transcript  of 
all  the  emotions  of  his  time,  and  the  most  complete  summary 
of  that  delightful  poetry.  None  of  his  rivals  and  contempo- 
raries united  in  a  higher  degree  earthly  affections,  Eealous  and 


*  Sneh  are  Ura  lhgalol»,  \iy  WMt  4e  OnrenlMrg;  4  tmmI  of  SIttalwthY  gnmili 
Aither,  and  who  Mefl!mp«nt«<1  ber  hosband  to  the  Orinadm;  OwiUditme  fOrmnffti, 
wliich  was  asked  of  Wolfram  d'EscIienbaeh  by  Eliiabcth's  father>ln-Uw;  FlotmH 
BUmchAfleur,  by  Connul  de  Fleeke ;  the  ChanJt  d«  Roland^  by  the  prieat  Cojirad ; 
BarUuMH  H  Jwiiphat,  by  Reddpfa  de  Hehenens,  Ae. 

t  The  principal  cullection  of  their  works  is  In  the  Boyal  library  in  Paria,  In  tk* 
■unascript  called  dt  MdnMne.  It  contains  th«  poems  of  otie  hundred  and  ttiH{|r> 
«to  peats.  ProfcMor  Hagan,  ef  B^i\ln^  haa  Jul  pobUahed  aa  asMlkBt  edMaa  ol  Ik 
with  soma  most  valuable  addiUona. 


u 


XHTftODDCTIOir. 


watchful  patriotism,  enthusiastic  love  for  holy  things  ;  for  th« 
Crusade,  in  which  he  had  hhnself  fought ;  and,  above  all,  for 
the  Virgin-Mother,  whose  mercy  and  whose  mortal  dolours  he 
Bang  with  unequalled  tenderness.  We  clearly  see  that,  in 
him,  it  wan  not  only  human  love,  but  also  celestial  lore  with 
all  its  treasures  which  won  for  him  and  his  confreres  their  title 
of  love-singers.  Mary,  everywhere  the  Queen  of  Cliristiaii 
|)oetry,  was  especially  so  in  Germany;  and  we  cannot  help 
naming  amongst  those  who  have  offered  her  the  purest  in- 
cense of  «ong,  Conrad  de  Wurtzburg,  who,  in  his  Golden 
Forge,  seems  to  have  concentrated  all  the  rays  of  tenderness 
and  beauty  wherewith  she  had  been  invested  by  the  venera- 
tion of  the  Christian  world.  And,  as  though  to  remind  us 
that  everything  in  that  age  was  to  be  more  or  less  connected 
with  St.  Elizabeth,  we  dee  the  seven  chiefs  of  those  epic  poets 
and  love-singers  assemble  by  solemn  appointment  at  the  court 
of  Thuringia,  under  their  special  protector,  the  Landgrave 
Hermann,  father-in-law  of  our  Saint,  at  the  very  time  of  her 
birth  ;  the  songs  which  were  the  produce  of  the  meeting  of 
this  brilliant  constellation,  form,  under  the  name  of  the  Wir 
of  Wartburg,  one  of  the  most  splendid  manifestations  of  the 
German  genius,  and  one  of  the  most  abundant  treasures  of 
the  legendary  mysticism  of  the  middle  ages,  as  well  as  a 
poetic  wreath  for  the  cradle  of  Elizabeth. 

Crowned  heads  are  everywhere  seen  amongst  the  poets  of 
that  age  ;  but  in  the  Iberian  peninsula  it  is  kings  who  guide 
the  first  steps  of  poetry.  Peter  of  Arragon  is  the  most 
ancient  Troubadour  of  Spain.  Al^^honsus  the  Learned,  son 
of  St.  Ferdinand,  who  merited,  long  before  Francis  I.,  the 
title  of  father  of  letters — a  historian  and  a  philosopher,  waa 
also  a  poet ;  there  are  but  few  Spanish  verses  more  ancient 
than  his  hymns  to  the  Virgin,  and  his  touching  account  of  hia 
father's  miraeulous  cure,  written  in  the  Gallician  language. 
Denis  I.,  King  of  Portugal,  is  the  first  known  poet  of  bii 


IlTTROOUCTIOir. 


n 


kingdom.  .In  Spain  began,  with  the  moet  lively  energy,  that 
admirable  effosion  of  Christian  splendour,  which  was  there 
Iccpt  np  much  longer  than  in  any  other  conntry,  nor  began  to 
wane  till  after  Calderon.  Whilst  legendary  poetry  shed  its 
mild  radiance  in  the  works  of  the  Benedictine  Gonzalo  de 
Bercoo,  a  poet  who  was  truly  inspired  by  Mary  and  the 
Saints  of  his  nation,  we  see  the  Spanish  epic  making  itt 
appearance  in  thnse  famous  Romances*  which  are  the  peculiar 
glory  of  Spain,  and  one  which  no  nation  could  ever  dispute 
with  her ;  wherein  are  chronicled  all  the  struggles  and  all  the 
beauties  of  her  history;  which  have  endowed  the  people  with 
immortal  remembrances,  and  have  reflected  all  the  proud 
prestige  of  Moorish  pomp  and  elegance,  without  ever  losing 
that  severe  Catholic  character  which  consecrated  in  Spain, 
more  than  anywhere  else,  the  dignity  of  man,  the  loyalty  of 
the  subject,  and  the  faith  of  the  Christian. 

In  Italy,  it  was  only  at  the  close  of  the  period  under 
review  that  Dante  appeared,  (born  1265)  but  his  advent 
was  nobly  ushered  in.  Poetry,  less  precocious  than  in  France 
or  Germany,  was  but  beginning  to  bear  fruit,  but  she  did  so 
with  prodigious  abundance.  In  every  quarter  of  that  noble 
and  fertile  land,  schools  of  poets  arose,  as  schools  of  artists 
were  soon  after  to  do.  In  Sicily,  the  Italian  muse  had  her 
cradle  jf  there  she  appeared,  pure,  animated,  a  lover  of 
nature,  delicate,  nearly  akin  to  the  French  genius, — which 
was  twice  to  make  Sicily  its  appanage, — but  still  and  ever 
profoundly  Catholic.^  In  Pisa  and  Sienna,  it  is  more  grave, 
more  solemn,  as  we  see  by  the  fine  monuments  which  thofie 


*  Those  of  the  Cidy  regnrded  m  the  most  eneient,  eonid  not  have  been  eompoaed 
oeftrethe  thirteenth  century,  eooording  to  the  best  Judges, 

t  Any  one  who  supposes  that  Italian  poetry  began  with  Dante,  would  do  well  ta 
■ee  the  collection  entitled  Poeti  dtl  primo  aseoto,  that  is  to  My,  of  the  thirteentk 
MBtury,  whieh  oootains  some  masterpleees  of  the  poetic  art. 

X  Sueb,  at  least,  is  the  opiaion  of  Daate,  D0  Vulg.  JBog^  I,  If ;  tad  of 


7t 


INTROOOOTIOV. 


Cities  have  preferred.  Id  Plorence  ftnd  the  n«ighl)onriBf 
citiefl  it  is  tender,  ubundaut,  pious — worthy  in  all  respects  of 
its  birtbplnce.*  Tliey  were  indeed  a  \t^\on  of  poets,  wiiose 
chiefs  were  tlie  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  tii'e  Icinp  Euzio  and 
Mainfroy,  his  sons,  and  his  Chancellor,  Peter  de  Viij^iies ; 
then  Goittone  d'Arezzo,  a  poet  so  profound,  and  sometimes 
so  eloquent,  and  so  touching,  warmly  praised  by  Petrarch  and 
imituted  by  him;  finally,  Guido  Guinicelli,  whom  Dante  uiv- 
liesitatingly  proclaimed  as  his  master.  But  nil  these  were 
preceded  and  surpasseii  by  St.  Francis  of  AKKisium  ;t  his 
influence  was  to  enliven  art,  his  example  to  inflame  poets. 
While  reforming  the  world,  God  permitted  him  to  use  the 
first  of  tliat  poetry  which  was  to  bring  forth  Dante  aud  Pe- 
trarch. As  it  was  his  soul  alone  that  inspired  his  verses,  and 
that  he  followed  no  rule  in  their  composition,  he  had  them 
corrected  by  the  Brother  Pacific,  who  became  his  disciple, 
after  having  been  poet-laureate  to  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.; 
and  tlien  both  together  went  along  the  highways,  singing  to 
the  people  those  new  hymns,  saying  that  they  were  God's  min- 
strels, and  required  no  other  reward  than  the  repentance  of 
sinners.  We  still  have  those  joyous  canticles  wherein  the 
poor  mendicant  celebrated  the  wonders  of  God's  love,  in  the 
veroaonlar  tongue,  and  so  passionately  that  ^e  himself  appre* 
headed  lest  he  might  be  accused  of  folly. 

1^0,  never  did  that  love,  which  was,  as  we  have  seen,  fail; 
whole  life,  send  forth  a  cry  so  enthusiastic,  so  tru)y  celestial^ 
BO  wholly  detached  from  the  earth  ;  hence  it  is  that  succeed- 
ing ages  have  not  only  failed  to  equal  it,  but  even  to  under- 


*  Wfl  must  enpeciftlly  mentton  th«  oharining  strains  of  Boti^o  d*01trHr&o,(t24(Qk , 
^f.  tfe  Ibund  in  Crescimbeni  and  the  Rime  aniiehe. 

t  W«  muat  here  ntfer  to  the  floe  work  of  M.  Gorres,  entitled  St.  FrattfoU  d^Aspt 
alse  Troubadour,  tmnslated  into  the  European  Jtevimo  of  1S8S.  Tiiere  are  m% 
IMm  vtrsfls  wboM  date  wc  bv  Used  with  oortaiAty  before  ihos«  of  8U  Fl^eU 
W«  hmw  alNBdj  ipokea  ni  the  beMttlfol  poemi  of  St.  Bonft^ttatai^ 


|JITROOVGIiai|. 


Oltrwno  (124(0k , 


itand  It.  HU  fiirooai  canticle  to  h»  broihtr  iht  mn  U  bettar 
known  ;  it  was  comi)o«c>d  uitcr  nn  ecstocy  wherein  he  had 
received  the  oertointy  of  his  salvation.  Scarcely  hail  it  et-* 
caped  from  his  heart  when  he  goes  out  to  sing  it  in  the  strcels 
of  A^'^iHium,  where  the  Bishop  and  the  mttKistrate  wore  in 
o\^\  warfare.  But  at  the  accents  of  that  divine  lyre,  hatred 
wixs  cxtiugnished  in  all  hearts,  enemies  shed  tears  as  they  eiB" 
brae^d  each  other,  and  concord  reappeared  at  the  cull  of 
poitry  and  sanctity. 

Finally,  the  highest  and  fairest  branch  of  poetry,  the 
littirgy,  produced  in  that  age  some  of  its  most  popular  master- 
pieces, and  if  St.  Thomas  of  Aquinas  gives  it  \e  Lauda  Sion, 
and  all  the  admirable  office  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  it  is  a 
disciple  of  St.  Francis — Thomas  de  Cclano— who  leaves  ns 
the  Dies  IrcB^  that  cry  of  sublime  terror ;  and  another,  the 
Brother  Jacopone,  who  disputes  with  Innocent  III.  the  glory 
of  having  composed,  in  the  Stabat  Mater,  the  most  beautiful 
tribute  to  the  purest  and  most  touching  of  sorrows. 

This  brings  us  back  to  St.  Francis,  and  it  may  be  observed 
that  this  period,  whose  most  prominent  features  we  have  en- 
deavoured to  sketch,  may  be  wholly  summed  up  in  the  two 
great  figures  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisium,  and  St.  Louis  of  France. 

The  one,  a  man  of  the  people,  and  who  did  more  for  the 
people  than  any  one  had  yet  done,  raising  poverty  to  the  bb- 
premc  dignity,  making  it  his  choice  and  his  protection,  and 
giving  it  a  new  influence  over  the  things  of  heayen  and  earth; 
invested  with  that  supernatural  life  of  Christif^nity  which  has 
so  often  conferred  spiritaal  sovereignty  on  the  lowest  of  its 
childrea  ;  regarded  by  his  contemporaries  a^  the  closest  imi- 
tator of  Christ ;  enervated  during  his  whole  lifb  with  divine 
love;  and  by  the  all-powerful  virtue  of  that  Iotc,  a  poet,  ao 
uctor,  a  lawgiver,  a  conqueror. 

The  other  a  layman,  a  knight,  a  pilgrim,  a  cmsader,  • 
kiag  crowned  with  the  first  Ohristiaa  diadem,  brave  even  le 


1 


78 


iifTmoDUOTrov. 


ruhncsR,  m  willinp^  to  ri^k  his  life  as  to  ber*^  }i\»  ^nad  befoft 
Ood  ;  a  lover  of  danger,  of  hnmiliation,  of  p*.>^auce;  the  inde- 
fatigable champion  of  jnstice,  of  the  weak  and  the  opprcwcd; 
the  sublime  personification  of  Christian  chiralrj  in  all  Its 
purity,  nnd  of  true  royalty  in  all  its  august  grnndenr.  Both 
grerdy  for  martyrdom,  and  for  sacrifice  ;  both  continually 
Intent  on  the  salvation  of  their  neighl)oar;  both  marked  with 
the  cross  of  Christ.  Francis  in  the  glorious  wounds  which  he 
had  in  common  with  the  crucified ;  and  Louis  in  that  inmott 
heart  where  love  lies. 

These  two  men,  so  similar  in  their  nature  and  in  their  ten 
dency,  so  well  fitted  to  appreciate  each  other,  never  met  oc 
earth.  There  is  a  pious  and  a  touching  tradition  that  St. 
Louis  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  his  glorious  con- 
temporary, and  tiiat  he  there  found  a  worthy  snccejsor  of  St 
Francis  in  one  of  his  chosen  disciples,  brother  ^gidins.  The 
account  of  their  meeting  is  too  characteristic  of  the  age 
whereof  we  treat,  for  us  to  omit  giving  it  a  place.  St.  Lonis 
being  come,  then,  from  Assisium  to  the  Convent  of  Peronsa, 
where  iBgidius  dwelt,  sent  him  word  that  a  poor  pilgrim 
wished  to  speak  with  him.  But  an  interior  vision  instantly 
revealed  to  the  friar  that  the  pilgrim  was  no  other  than  the 
holy  king  of  France.  He  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and  as  soon 
as  they  beheld  each  other,  although  it  was  for  the  first  time, 
they  both  fell  on  their  knees  at  the  same  moment,  and  ten- 
derly embracing,  they  remained  long  thus  'ithoot  exchanging 
a  single  word.  At  length  they  separated,  arose  and  went 
tLeir  way — the  king  to  his  kingdom,  the  monk  to  his  cell. 
But  the  other  brothers  of  the  convent,  having  discovered  that 
it  was  the  king,  began  to  reproach  .^gidius.  "  How,**  said 
they,  "  couldst  thou  have  been  so  rude,  as  not  to  speak  a  sin- 
gle word  to  such  a  holy  prince,  he  coming  all  the  way  from 
France  on  purpose  to  see  thee  ?"  "  Ah  I  my  beloved  bretb* 
ren,''  replied  the  holy  man,  "  be  not  surprised  that  neither  ht 


iJlVMODVOflOir. 


79 


in  head  befort 


tioi  I  ^oaM  speuk;  for,  irhiliit  we  embraced  each  other,  tho 
Ugb«  vf  divine  wiiklom  levealeJ  his  heart  to  me  and  mine  to 
liim;  aiid  tlius,  looking  into  each  othcr^s  heart,  we  knew  each 
other  fur  tiettor  than  if  we  had  spoken,  and  witli  mucli  greatei 
vouMolatiou  th.iii  if  we  had  given  Tent  to  our  feelingH  in  words, 
•o  incapal)ie  is  the  human  tongue  of  expressing  the  secret 
uiyHteries  of  Qod  I"  A  touching  and  an  admirable  Ryuit)ol 
of  tltat  Hccret  intelligence,  of  that  victorious  harmony  which 
then  united  lofty  and  holy  souls,  as  a  sublime  and  eterual 
compact. 

It  may  also  be  said  that  those  two  great  sonls  meet  and 
are  completely  united  in  that  of  one  woman— St.  Elizabeth — 
whose  name  has  already  ooourred  so  often  in  this  work.  That 
burning  love  of  poverty  which  inflamed  the  seraph  of  A»> 
sisiuiu,  that  luxury  of  suffering  and  humiliation,  that  supreme 
worship  of  obedience  is  suddenly  enkindled  in  the  heart  of  a 
young  princess,  who,  from  the  heart  of  Qermany,  recognises 
him  as  her  model  and  her  father.  That  boundless  sympathy 
for  the  Passion  of  a  God  made  man,  which  sent  St.  Louis, 
Imrefoot,  at  twenty-four,  to  visit  the  holy  Crowu  of  thorns, — 
which  impelled  him  to  go  twice  under  the  standard  of  the 
Cross  to  seek  death  and  captivity  in  Africa ;  that  longing  for 
a  better  life  which  made  him  struggle  against  his  friends  and 
family  to  abdicate  the  crown  and  hide  his  royalty  under  the 
monastic  habit ;  that  respect  for  poverty  which  made  him 
kiss  the  hand  of  every  one  to  whom  he  gave  alms  ;  his  abun- 
dant tears,  his  sweet  familiarity  with  Joinville,  and  even  his 
conjugal  tenderness  :  all  that  is  found  again  in  the  life  of  St. 
Elizabeth,  who  was  no  less  his  sister  by  feeling  and  by  syiD- 
pa  thy,  than  by  their  common  engagement  under  the  role  of 
St.  Francis. 

It  has  been  established,  in  our  own  days,  that  the  thir- 
teenth century  was  remarkable  for  the  increasing  influence  of 
kromcn  in  the  social  and  political  world;  that  thoy  gaided 


I 


80 


IVTft  JDVOTIOH. 


the  helm  of  gorenimeiit  in  sereral  large  states,*  and  thai 
fresh  homage  was  daily  offered  to  them  both  in  pablic  and 
private  life.  This  was  the  inevitable  consequence  of  that  de- 
Totion  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  progress  of  which  we  have 
already  noticed.  ''It  must  be  accredited  to  all  women,"* 
says  a  poet  of  that  age,  "  that  the  mother  of  Qod  wus  a 
womsni."f  How,  in  fact,  could  kings  and  nationg  constantly 
take  her  for  mediatrix  between  her  Sou  and  them,  place  all 
their  works  under  her  sanction,  choose  her  for  the  special 
object  of  their  most  ardent  devotion,  without  giving  a  share 
of  that  venerdtion  to  the  sex  whose  representative  she  was 
with  God,  as  also  its  most  perfect  type  ?  Since  woman  was 
80  powerful  in  heaven,  she  must  needs  be  so  on  earth.  But, 
whilst  other  princesses  learned  to  share  with  kings  the  right 
of  supreme  command,  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Hungary, 
— the  issue  of  a  race  of  saints,  and  whose  example  was  to 
produce  so  many  others, — showed  that  there  was  still,  for 
women,  a  royalty  of  soul  far  above  all  earthly  pomp  ;  and  it 
was  by  exercising  it,  unwittingly  and  unknown,  that  she 
gained  her  place  in  history. 

Her  Hfe,  short  though  it  be,  presents,  perhaps,  the  only 
assemblage  of  the  most  varied  phases,  the  most  attractive, 
and  yet  the  most  austere  features  which  can  mark  the  life  of 
a  Christian,  a  princess  and  a  Saint.  Still,  during  the  twenty 
years  which  elapse  from  the  day  when  she  was  brought  to  her 
betrothed  in  a  silver  cradle,  till  that  wlien  she  expired  on  the 
hospital  pallet,  which  she  chose  for  her  death-bed,  there  are 
two  Tery  distinct  parts,  if  not  in  her  character,  at  least  in  her 
exterior  life.  Tlie  first  is  all  chivalric,  all  poetic,  calculated 
as  muoh  to  enchain  the  imagination  as  to  inspire  piety.   From 


*  BIs&Qhe  of  Oftstn*;  ImWIIa  de  la  MaMh«,  who  eontrollod  tbo  ontlM  poliej  of 
King  John  Lack-land,  her  husbanl :  Jan*,  Countesa  of  Flanders,  who  clalmad  Um 
Clfht  of  assintin^  as  a  poor  of  France,  at  the  consecration  of  St.  Looilw 

t  JVniiMntofrt  *  poem  9f  the  thirtMath  eontuix. 


IHTRODUOTIOir. 


81 


th(;  interior  of  Hungry,  tliat  land  half  nnknotm,  half  east- 
frn, — the  frontier  of  Christendom,  which  presented  to  the 
modiseval  ages  a  grand  and  mjsterions  aspect,*  she  arrivei 
at  the  Conrt  of  Thuringia,  tne  most  brilliant  and  the  most 
poetical  in  all  Germany.  Daring  her  childhood,  her  proco 
clous  virtue  is  overlooked,  her  piety  despised  ;  some  were  for  > 
sending  her  back  disgracefally  to  her  father  ;  bat  her  be- 
trothed remains  ever  falthfal  to  her,  consoles  her  for  the  per- 
secution of  the  wicked,  and  as  soon  as  he  is  master  of  his 
States,  hastens  to  marry  her.  The  holy  love  of  a  sister  min- 
gles in  her  heart  with  the  ardent  love  of  a  wife  for  him  who 
was  first  the  companion  of  her  childhood  and  then  her  hus- 
band, and  who  vies  with  herself  in  piety  and  fervour ;  a 
charming  freedom,  a  sweet  and  artless  confidence  presides 
over  their  union.  Daring  all  the  time  of  their  wedded  life, 
they  certainly  offer  the  most  touching  and  edifying  example 
of  a  Christian  marriage  ;  and  we  dare  affirm  that,  amongst 
all  the  Saints,  none  has  presented  in  the  same  degree  as  Eliz- 
abeth, the  type  of  the  Christian  wife.  But,  amidst  all  the 
happiness  of  this  life, — the  joys  of  maternity, — the  homage 
and  the  splendour  of  a  chivalrous  court,  her  soul  tends  al- 
ready towards  the  eternal  source  of  love,  by  mortification, 
humility  and  the  most  fervent  devotion;  and  the  germs  of  that 
more  perfect  life,  implanted  within  her,  grow  and  expand  in 
boundless  charity,  and  indefatigable  solicitude  for  the  miseries 
of  the  poor.  Meanwhile,  the  irresistible  call  of  the  Crusado, 
the  supreme  duty  of  freeing  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  draws  away 
her  young  husband  after  seven  years  of  the  most  tender  union; 
he  dares  not  reveal  to  her  his  still  secret  project,  but  she  dis- 
covers it  in  a  moment  of  tender  familiarity.  She  knows  not 
how  to  resign  herself  to  this  hard  destiny;  ahe  follows  and 


I 

n 


M 


•  !%«  fiuBons  Berth*  the  Good,  wifs  of  Pepin,  and  mother  of  Oharieim«ne,  the 
principal  heroine  of  the  cycle  of  the  Cerlovingian  epioe,  wm  alao  iao^ter  of  a  king 
9l  Hungary. 


m 


INTRODUCTION. 


accompanies  him  far  beyond  the  confines  of  their  country;  she 
cannot  tear  herself  from  his  arms.  lu  the  anguish  which 
rends  her  lieart  at  this  parting,  and  again  when  she  hears  of 
the  untimely  death  of  her  beloved  husband,  we  behold  all  the 
energy  and  tenderness  of  that  young  heart ;  precious  'ind 
invincible  energy,  worthy  of  being  consecrated  to  the  conquest 
of  heaven  ;  profound  and  insatiable  tenderness  which  God 
alone  could  reward  and  satisfy. 

Thus,  this  separation  once  consummated,  her  whole  life  is 
changed,  and  God  alone  engrosses  the  affection  of  her  soul. 
Misfortune  comes  on  fast  and  heavy  ;  she  is  brutally  expelled 
from  her  royal  dwelling  ;  slie  wanders  through  the  streets 
with  her  infant  children,  a  prey  to  cold  and  hunger,  she  who 
had  fed  and  comforted  so  many  !  no  asylum  can  she  find,  she 
who  had  so  often  sheltered  others  !     But,  even  when  her 
wrongs  are  repaired,  she  is  no  longer  inclined  to  a  worldly 
life.     Left  a  widow  at  the  age  of  twenty,  she  rejects  the  hand 
of  the  most  powerful  princes  ;  she  is  sick  of  the  world  ;  the 
ties  of  mortal  love  once  broken,  she  feels  herself  moved 
with  divine  love ;    her  heart,    like    the    sacred   censor,  is 
closed  to  all  earthly  things,  and  is  open  only  to  heaven.   She 
contracts  with  Christ  a  second  and  indissoluble  union  ;  she 
seeks  Him  and  serves   Him  in  the  person  of  the  wretched  ; 
after  distributing  all  her  treasures,  all  her  por.sessions,  when 
she  has  nothing  more  to  give,  she  then  gives  herself;   she 
becomes  poor,  the  better  to  understand  and  to  relieve  the 
misery  of  the  poor  ;    she  consecrates  her  life  to  render  Ihem 
even  the  most  repulsive  services.     In  vain  does  her  father, 
the  King  of  Hungary,  send  embassadors  to  bring  her  back  to 
him  ;  they  find  her  at  her  wheel  ;  resolved  on  preferring  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  to  the  royal  splendour  of  her  father's  court. 
In  tXCiange  for  her  austerities,  her  voluntary  poverty,  the 
yoke  of  obedience  under  which  she  daily  bends,  her  Divine 
Spouse  endows  her  with  supernatural  joy  and  supernatural 


INTRODUCTION. 


n% 


power.  In  the  midst  of  calumnies,  privations,  and  the  most 
cruel  mortifications,  she  knows  not  a  shade  of  sadness  ;  a  look, 
a  prayer  of  hers  suffices  to  heal  the  diseases  of  her  fellow- 
creatures.  In  tlie  bloom  of  youth,  she  is  ripe  for  eternity ; 
and  she  dies  in  the  act  of  singing  a  hymn  of  joy  which  the 
angels  above  are  heard  to  repeat  in  welcome  to  her  victorious 
soul. 

Thus,  in  the  twenty-four  years  of  her  life,  we  see  her  in 
sncoession,  a  lonely  and  persecuted  orphan, — a  sweet  and 
modest  betrothed  bride,  a  wife  unequalled  for  tenderness  and 
trust,  a  loving  and  devoted  mother,  a  sovereign  more  powerful 
by  her  benefits  than  by  her  rank  ;  then  a  widow  cruelly 
oppressed,  a  penitent  without  sin,  an  austere  nun,  a  Sister  of 
Charity,  a  fervent  and  favoured  spouse  of  the  God  who  glorifies 
licr  by  miracles  before  he  calls  lier  to  Himself ;  and,  in  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  life,  ever  faithful  to  her  original  character,  to 
that  perfect  simplicity  which  is  the  sweetest  fruit  of  faith  and 
tlie  most  fragrant  perfume  of  charity,  and  which  transformed 
lier  entire  life  into  that  heavenly  childishness  to  which  Jesua 
Las  promised  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

So  many  charms — so  much  interest  in  the  brief  mortal 
existence  of  this  young  woman,  are  neither  the  creation  of 
tlie  poet's  fancy,  nor  the  fruit  of  piety  exaggerated  by  dis- 
tance; they  are,  on  the  contrary,  verified  by  all  the  authority 
of  history.  The  profound  impression  which  the  destiny  and 
the  heroic  virtues  of  Elizabeth  made  on  uer  age,  is  manifested 
by  the  tender  and  scrupulous  care  wherewith  men  have  gath- 
ered and  transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  the  most 
trifling  actions  of  her  life,  the  least  words  that  she  uttered,  with 
a  thousand  incidents  which  throw  light  on  the  innermost  recesses 
of  that  pure  and  artless  soul.  We  are  thns  enabled,  at  the 
distance  of  six  centuries,  to  give  an  account  of  that  blessed 
life,  with  all  the  familiar  and  minute  details  which  w«  little 
expect  to  find  save  in  memoirs  recently  written — and  with 


u 


IVTK0DV0T10V. 


cirecmstftnces  so  poetic,  we  would  ftlmosi  say  so  romantio— 
that  we  can  scarcely  help  rcgardiDi^  them  at  first  as  the  resnlts 
of  nn  excited  imagination  taktag  [dcasure  in  embcHixhing  with 
all  itti  charois  a  heroine  of  romance.  And  yrt  the  historical 
authenticity  of  most  of  these  details  camiot  be  suspected, 
l)eiMg  collected  at  the  same  time  as  her  miracles,  and  verified 
by  solemn  investigations  immediately  after  her  death,  and 
registered  by  grave  hlstortaus  in  the  national  and  coBtem* 
poraneoiis  annals  which  record  the  other  events  of  the  time. 
in  the  eyes  of  those  pious  annalists,  who  wrote,  as  the  people 
of  those  days  acted,  under  the  exclusive  empire  of  faith,  so 
fair  a  victory  for  Christ — so  much  charity  and  solicitude  for 
the  poor,  with  such  shining  manifestations  of  the  i)Ower  of 
God,  wrought  by  a  creature  so  fragile  and  so  young,  appeared 
as  a  sweet  place  of  rest  amid  the  storm  of  battles,  wars,  and 
political  revolutions. 

And  not  only  is  this  life-^o  poetical  and,  at  the  same 
time,  so  edifying— -certified  by  history,  but  it  hos  received  an 
otherwise  high  sanction;  it  has  been  invested  with  a  splendour 
before  which  the  mere  products  of  imaginition,  worldly  re- 
nown, and  the  popidarity  given  by  historians  and  orators, 
must  all  wax  dim.  It  has  been  adorned  with  the  fairest 
crown  that  is  known  to  man,  that  of  the  saint.  It  has  been 
glorified  by  tho  homage  of  the  Christian  world.  It  has  re- 
ceived tliat  popularity  of  prayer,  the  only  one  that  is  eternal, 
universal^— the  on?y  one  that  is  decreed  at  once  by  the  learned 
and  the  rich — by  the  poor,  the  wretched,  the  ignorant*— by 
that  immense  muss  of  mankind  who  have  neither  time  nor 
inclination  to  busy  thetnaelves  with  human  glories.  And  for 
those  who  are  infiueneed  by  imagination,  what  happiness  to 
feel  that  so  much  poetry,  so  many  charming  incidents,  illoa- 
trative  of  all  that  is  freshest  and  purest  in  the  human  beait, 
may  he  remembered,  extolled — ^not,  indeed,  in  the  pages  of  a 
poiaanc«.  or  on  the  boards  of  a  theatre,  but  under  the  Taulted 


l«TS0»00f lOV. 


roofs  of  oar  churches^  at  the  foot  of  the  holj  altars,  in  the 
effusion  of  the  Christian  soul  before  its  God! 

It  may  be  that,  blinded  by  that  inYolontnry  partiality 
which  we  feel  for  that  which  has  been  the  object  of  a  study 
and  an  attachment  of  several  yearti,  we  exagg«ratf^  >i«e  beauty 
and  the  im{)0Ft8>nce  of  our  snbjeet.  We  doubt  iiot  that,  even 
apart  from  aU  the  inaperfection  of  our  work,  intiny  may  find 
out  tlMtt  an  age  so  remote  has  nothing  in  coiAmon  with  this 
of  ours;  that  this  biography  so  minute,  that  this  description 
of  customs  so  long  exploded  can  present  no  profitable  and 
positive  result  to  the  religions  ideas  of  our  time.  The  simple 
and  pious  souls,  for  whom  alone  we  write,  shall  be  our  judge. 
The  author  of  this  book  has  made  a  graver  objection  to  him- 
self. Seduced,  at  first,  by  the  poetical,  legendary,  and  even 
romantic  character  which  the  life  of  St.  Elizabeth  presents  to 
a  cursory  view,  he  found  himself  as  it  were,  according  as  he 
advanced,  engaged  in  the  study  of  an  admirable  development 
of  the  ascetic  streilgth  engendered  by  faith — with  the  revela- 
tion of  tlie  most  profound  mysteries  of  Christian  iuitiation. 
He  then  asked  himself  whether  he  had  a  right  to  underiake 
such  a  work;  whether  the  sublime  triumphs  of  religion  were 
not  to  be  reserved  for  writers  who  could  do  honour  to  religio*, 
or  who,  at  least,  might  be  exclusively  devoted  to  it.  He 
could  not  but  feel  that  he  had  no  mission  for  such  a  work, 
and  it  was  with  tremulous  apprehension  that  be  accomplished 
a  task  which  seems  so  unsuited  to  his  weakness,  his  age,  and 
his  lay  character. 

Nevertheless,  after  long  hesitation,  he  yielded  to  the  im- 
pulsive idea  of  giving  son>e  connection  to  studies  so  protraeted 
and  so  conscientious,  together  with  the  desire  ci  presenting 
to  the  friends  of  religion  and  of  historical  truth  the  faithful 
and  complete  pktore  of  the  life  of  a  saint  of  former  days — 
of  one  of  those  beings  who  summed  up  within  themselves  all 
tho  Ai'th  and  all  the  pore  affectioae  of  the  Christian  ages;  lo 


m 


1:1 


86 


tVTHODUOTTOV. 


paint  them,  as  mach  as  possible,  in  the  hoes  of  their  time, 
and  to  show  them  in  all  the  splendour  of  that  perfect  beaoty 
wherewith  they  presented  themselves  to  the  minds  oi  men  in 
the  middle  ages. 

We  are  well  aware  that,  to  reproduce  such  a  life  in  all  its 
Integrity,  it  is  necessary  to  place  ourselves  face  to  face  with  a 
whole  order  of  facts  and  of  ideas  long  since  struck  with  repro- 
bation by  the  vagne  religiosity  of  latter  times,  and  which  a 
timorous  though  sincere  piety  has  too  often  excluded  from 
religious  history.  We  allude  to  the  supernatural  phenomena 
60  abundant  in  the  lives  of  the  Saints,  consecrated  by  faith 
under  the  name  of  miracles,  and  eschewed  by  worldly  wisdom 
under  the  name  of  "legends,"  "popular  superstitions,"  "fabu- 
lous traditions."  Many  such  are  found  in  the  life  of  St.  Eliza- 
beth. These  we  have  endeavoured  to  reproduce  with  the 
same  scrupulous  exactness  which  we  have  used  in  all  the  rest 
of  the  narrative.  The  very  thought  of  omitting,  or  even  of 
extenuating  them, — interpreting  them  with  prudent  modera- 
tion, would  have  been  revolting  to  us.  It  would  have  ap- 
peared to  us  a  sacrilege  to  gloss  over  or  conceal  what  we 
believe  to  be  true,  to  pander  to  the  proud  reason  of  our  age;  it 
would  have  been  a  culpable  error,  too,  for  th<^se  miracles  are 
related  by  the  same  authors,  established  by  t.  e  same  author- 
ity, as  are  all  the  other  events  of  our  biography.  Nor  could 
we  well  have  fixed  any  rule  whereby  to  admit  their  veracity 
m  some  cases  and  reject  it  in  others  ;  in  short,  it  would  have 
bten  nothing  bettr  i  than  hypocrisy,  for  we  candidly  acknow- 
ledge that  we  firmly  believe  all  that  has  ever  been  recorded 
as  most  miraculous  of  the  Saints  of  God  in  general,  and  of 
St.  Elizabeth  in  particular.  Nor  does  this  imply  any  sort  of 
victory  over  our  own  weak  reason ;  for  nothing  appeared  to  m 
more  reasonable,  more  simple  for  a  Christian,  than  to  bend  in 
gratitude  before  the  Lord's  mercy,  when  he  sees  it  suspend  or 
modify  the  natural  laws  which  it  alone  has  created,  to  secur« 


INTRODUOTIOH. 


17 


«Dd  enhance  the  triumph  of  the  still  higher  laws  of  the  moral 
and  religions  order.  Is  it  not  both  sweet  and  easy  to  con- 
ceive how  soals  like  those  of  St.  Elizabeth  and  her  contempo* 
rnries,  exalted  by  faith  and  humility  far  above  the  cold  rea- 
Bcning  of  this  world,  pnrified  by  every  sacrifice  and  every 
virtue,  accastomed  to  live  beforehand  in  heaven,  presented  to 
the  goodness  of  God  a  theatre  ever  prepared  ;  how  much, 
too,  the  fervent  and  simple  faith  of  the  people  called  forth, 
and,  if  we  may  venture  to  say  so,  justified  the  frequent  and 
fumiliar  intervention  of  tliat  Almighty  power  rejected  ani 
denied  by  the  insensate  pride  of  our  days ! 

Hence  it  is  with  a  mixture  of  love  and  respect  that  w<3 
have  long  studied  those  innumerable  traditions  of  faithful 
g-cneratious,  wherein  faith  and  Christian  poesy, — the  highest 
lessons  of  religion  and  the  most  delightful  creations  of  the 
imagination  are  blended  in  a  union  so  intimate  that  it  cnn  bv 
no  means  be  dissolved.  But  even  if  we  had  not  the  happi< 
ness  of  believing  with  entire  simplicity  in  the  wondei-s  of 
divine  power,  which  they  relate,  never  could  we  venture  to 
despise  the  innocent  belief  which  has  moved  and  delighted 
millions  of  our  brethren  for  so  many  ages  ;  all  that  is  paerile 
in  them  is  elevated  and  sanctified  to  us,  by  having  been  the 
object  of  our  fathers'  faith — of  our  fathers  who  were  nearer 
Christ  than  we  are.  We  have  not  the  heart  to  despise  what 
tliey  believed  with  so  much  fervour,  loved  with  so  mnch  con- 
stiincy.  Far  from  that:  we  will  freely  confess  that  we  have  often 
found  in  them  both  help  and  consolation,  and  in  this  we  are 
not  alo  le;  for  if  they  are  everywhere  despised  by  people  who 
call  themselves  leanied  and  enlightened,  there  are  still  places 
where  these  sweet  traditions  have  remained  dear  to  the  poof 
and  the  simple.  We  have  found  them  cherished  in  Ireland, 
in  the  Tyrol,  and  especially  in  Italy,  and  in  more  than  one 
of  the  French  provinces ;  we  have  gathered  them  from  the 
words  of  the  people,  and  the  tears  which  flowed  firom  their 


i 


I': 


IVTRODUOTIOir. 


ejef  ;  they  hafe  still  an  altar  in  the  fairest  of  all  t^mples-^ 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  We  will  even  venture  to  say  that 
■omething  is  wanting  to  the  human  glory  of  those  Saints  who 
have  not  been  invested  with  this  touching  popularity— ' who 
have  not  received,  with  the  homage  of  the  Church,  that 
tribute  of  humble  love  and  familiar  confidence  which  is  paid 
under  the  cottage-roof,  by  the  evening  hearth,  from  the  mouth 
aad  heart  of  the  unlettered  poor.  Elizabeth,  endowed  by 
heaven  with  such  absolute  simplicity,  and  who,  in  the  midst 
of  royal  splendour,  preferred  to  all  other  society  that  of  the 
poor  and  the  miserable  ;  Elieabeth,  the  friend,  the  mother, 
the  servant  of  the  poor,  could  not  be  forgotten  by  them;  and 
in  that  sweet  remembrance  do  we  find  the  secret  of  the  charm- 
ing incidents  which  we  shall  have  to  relate. 

But  this  ii3  not  the  place  to  discuss  that  grave  question  df 
the  credence  due  to  the  miracles  in  the  lives  of  the  Saints  ;  it 
fniffices  for  us  to  have  declared  our  own  point  of  view  ;  even 
had  it  been  different,  it  would  not  have  prevented  us  from 
writing  the  life  of  St.  Elizabeth,  from  showing  lUl  that  Oatho- 
Sics  believed  of  her,  and  giving  an  acconnt  of  the  glory  and 
the  influence  which  her  miracles  have  obtained  for  her  amongst 
the  faithful.  In  all  mediaeval  study,  the  implicit  faith  of  the 
people,  the  unanimity  of  public  opinion,  give,  to  the  popalar 
traditions  inspired  by  religion,  a  force  wh'ch  the  historian 
cannot  but  appreciate.  So  that  even  independent  of  their 
theological  value,  one  cannot,  Without  blindness,  overlook  the 
part  which  they  have  at  all  times  played  in  poetry  and  in 
history. 

With  regard  to  poetry,  it  would  be  diffienU  to  deny  that 
they  contain  an  inexhaustible  mine ;  a  fact  which  will  be 
every  day  recognised  more  and  more,  according  as  the  human 
mind  returns  to  the  source  of  true  beautyi  Even  were  we 
forced  to  regard  these  legends  but  as  the  Christian  mythic 
Im^y,  according  to  the  contemptaoos  exprMiioa  of  the  great 


IlfTRODUOTItfV. 


pliilosopherB  of  our  days,  still  we  should  find  in  them  a  sourot 
of  )>oetry  infinitely  BicM'e  pure,  abundant,  and  origioaii,  than  tbo 
worn-out  mythology  <^  Olympus.  But  how  can  wo  b«  sur* 
prised  that  they  hare  been  so  long  refused  ail  right  to  poetio 
influence  ?  Tho  idolatrous  generations  who  had  com^eutrated 
Mil  their  enthusiasni  on  the  monttuients  and  institutions  of  pa* 
l^^tinisra,  and  tho  imploaa  generations  who  hare  digniAed  with 
tho  name  of  poetry  the  filthy  effosiioiis  of  the  last  ocntury, 
could  neither  of  them  give  eren  a  name  to  that  exquisite  fVuit 
of  Catholic  faith;  t^ey  could  offer  it  only  one  kind  of  homage^ 
viz.  that  of  scoffing  aud  insuH, — this  they  have  done. 

In  a  purely  hifi4;orical  point  of  view,  popular  traditions, 
and  especially  those  which  belong  to  religion,  if  they  have  not 
a  mathematical  certainty — if  they  are  not  what  are  called 
positive  facts,  tliey  are,  at  least,  quite  as  powerful,  and  ha?« 
exercised  a  flar  greater  power  over  the  passions  and  morals  of 
the  people  than  fafHs  the  romt  inoontestible  for  human  reason. 
On  this  account  they  assuredly  merit  the  respect  and  atteo* 
tion  of  every  serious  historian  and  profound  critic. 

So  it  ought  to  be  with  every  man  who  is  interested  in  th« 
supremacy  of  spiritualism  in  the  progress  of  the  human  race  ; 
who  places  the  worship  of  moral  beauty  above  the  exclosivo 
domination  of  material  interests  and  inelinatiwis.  For  it  muni 
not  be  forgotten  that,  at  the  basis  of  all  beliefs,  even  the  most 
puerile,  and  superstitions  the  most  absurd  that  have  prerailed 
at  any  time  amongst  Christian  people,  there  was  always  ft 
formal  recognition  of  supernatural  power,  a  generous  declara* 
tion  in  favour  of  the  dignity  of  mau-^flallen  indeed— but  nol 
irretrievably.  Everywhere  and  olways  there  was  stamped  on 
tliese  popular  convictions  the  victory  of  mind  over  matter,  of 
tlu^  invisibip  over  the  visible,  of  the  IniioecMit  glory  of  mao 
ovir  his  misfortunii,  of  the  primitive  purity  of  nature  over  04 
corruption.  The  most  tiH fling  ditholio  hpnd  has  gained 
more  hearts  to  those  inmurtti  (ruths  tlioa  alt  ine  disaorta^ 


rj 


m 

.14.1 


IHTRODUCTIOV. 


tions  of  philoftophcni.  It  is  always  the  sentiment  of  timt  i;f\v- 
rious  sympathy  between  the  Creator  and  the  crcaturif,  l»c- 
Iwoen  heaven  ind  earth,  which  beams  upon  us  througli  tite 
mists  of  »ges  ;  but  whilst  pagan  antiquity  sta^nmered  out  this 
idea,  giving  its  gods  all  the  vices  of  humanity,  Christian  ngos 
here  pri)claimed  it,  elevatinj;  humanity  and  the  world  regene- 
rated by  faith,  to  the  very  height  of  heaven. 

In  the  ages  of  which  we  speak,  such  apology  as  these 
would  have  been  superfluous.  No  one  in  Christ  .,1  society 
doubted  the  tcuth  and  the  ineffable  sweetness  of  these  pions 
traditions.  Men  lived  in  a  sort  of  tender  and  intimate  famili- 
arity with  those  amongst  their  fathers  whom  God  had  mani- 
festly called  to  himself,  and  whose  sanctity  the  Church  had 
proclaimed.  That  Church,  who  had  placed  them  on  her 
altars,  certainly  could  not  blame  her  children  if  they  tltronged, 
with  indefatigable  tenderness,  to  lay  the  flowers  of  their  mir^d 
and  their  imagination  before  those  witnesses  of  eternal  truth. 
They  had  already  received  the  palm  of  victory ;  those  who 
vere  still  doing  battle  delighted  to  congratulate  them,  and 
to  lenrn  from  them  how  to  conquer.  Ineffable  affections,  salu- 
tary coiiiicrtions,  were  thus  formed  between  the  Saints  of  the 
Church  triumphant  and  the  humble  combatants  of  the  Church 
militant.  Each  one  chose  from  that  glorious  company  a  father 
— a  mother — a  friend — under  whose  protection  he  walked  with 
greater  confidence  and  security  towards  the  eternal  liglit 
From  the  king  and  the  pontiff  down  to  the  poorest  artisan, 
each  had  a  special  thoaglit  in  heaven  ;  in  the  midst  of  war- 
fare, in  the  dangers  and  sorrows  of  life,  these  holy  friendships 
exercised  their  strengthening  and  consoling  influence.  St. 
Louis,  dying  beyond  the  seas  for  the  Cross,  fervently  invoked 
the  humble  shepherdess  who  was  the  protectress  of  his  capital. 
The  brave  Spaniards,  overpowered  by  the  Moors,  beheld  St, 
James,  their  patron,  in  the  midst  of  their  ranks,  and,  return 
iog  to  the  charge,  speedily  turned  the  scale  of  victory.    The 


IKTROOVCTIOll 


•1 


kiii'^^lits  and  nobleo  had  for  their  patrons  St.  Michael  and  St 
(icufge ;  for  their  patroncHSoei,  St.  Catharine  and  St.  Mar* 
u'iiret ;  and  if  they  hap|)ened  to  die  as  prisoners  and  martyn 
fc  the  faith,  they  invoked  St.  Agues,  who  had  bent  lier  young 
and  virginal  head  beneath  the  axe.  The  labourer  saw  in  the 
(Jliurches  the  image  of  St.  Isidore  with  his  pIou<;h,  and  of  St. 
Nothbarga,  the  poor  Tyrolesc  servant,  with  her  sickle.  The 
(MK)r,  in  general, — the  lowly  and  tl  hard-working,  met  at 
every  step  that  gigantic  St.  Chri'  -  '  ending  under  the 

weight  of  the  child  Jesus,  and  fuui  itc  model  of  thai 

hard  life  of  toil  whose  harvest  i.     Qerraany  was 

peculiarly  fertile  in  such  pious  practice  ,  as  we  now  clearly 
perceive  while  studying  its  pure  and  artless  spirit,  so  totally 
void  of  the  sarcasm,  the  scoffing  sneer  which  blights  all 
poetry — while  studying  its  language,  so  rich  and  so  expres- 
sive. It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  specify  all  the  inno- 
tnerable  bonds  which  thus  connected  heaven  and  earth  ;  to 
ptMietrate  into  that  vast  region,  where  all  the  affections  and 
all  the  duties  of  mortal  life  were  mingled  and  intertwined  with 
immortal  protection ;  where  souls,  even  the  most  neglected 
and  the  most  solitary,  found  a  world  of  interest  and  consola^ 
tion  exempt  from  all  mundano  disappointments.  Men  thu^ 
exercised  themselves  in  loving  in  this  world  those  whom  they 
were  to  love  in  the  other  ;  they  calculated  on  finding  beyond 
the  grave  the  holy  protectors  of  their  infancy,  the  sweet 
friends  of  their  childhood,  the  faithful  guardians  of  their 
whole  existence  ;  there  was  but  one  vast  love  which  united 
the  two  lives  of  man,  and  which,  commenced  amid  the  storms 
of  time,  was  prolonged  throughout  the  glories  of  eternity. 

But  all  that  faith,  and  all  that  tender  aflfection,  which 
bonnd  to  heaven  the  hearts  of  the  men  of  those  times,  met 
and  settled  down  on  one  supreme  image.  All  these  pions 
traditions,  some  local,  others  personal,  were  eclipsed  and  en* 
grossed  by  those  which  the  entire  world  told  of  Mary.    Qaeei 


m 


^ 

^  ^ 

x^^ 

.0^.  \^^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


ItilM    125 

i50    *^^"      jjjj^^H 

S^   1^    |2.0 

HIM 

■UUb 

L25  l|!14   11.6 


1.1 


6" 


-^ 


Hiotographic 

ScMices 

Corporation 


«' 


^\ 


S? 


«^ 


^^^^ 


Vii"^ 


;\ 


23  WKT  MAIN  STMfT 

WEBSTIR.N.Y.  USM 

(716)t72-4S03 


'^ 


Oft 


iirT«oB0oyfaw. 


of  th«  enrth  oi  well  as  of  heaven,  whilst  efcfy  brow  and  every 
b<Nii .  bowed  down  before  her,  erery  mind  was  inspired  by 
her  glory  ;  whilst  the  earth  was  eorered  with  sanctuaries  and 
cathedrals  in  her  hononr,  the  imagination  of  those  poetic 
generations  never  ceased  to  diacover  some  new  perflRotioii, 
some  new  charm,  in  the  midst  of  that  supreme  beauty.  Bach 
day  brought  forth  same  more  marrettous  legend,  some  new 
ornament  which  the  gratitude  of  the  world  oftred  to  her 
who  had  re-opened  the  gates  of  heaven,  who  had  replenished 
ttie  ranks  of  the  Angels,  who  had  indemnified  man  for  the  sin 
df  Eve-^the  humble  "  handmaid,''  crowned  by  God  with  tha 
dhidem  which  Michael  Wrested  ttotb.  Lucifer  wlien  <ia8ting  him 
into  the  depths  of  hell.  "Thou  mdst  indeed  hear  us,''  said 
one  with  exquisite  simplicity,  "for  we  have  so  much  happiness 
in  honouring  thee."  "A<h  t"  cri«s  Walter  Von  de  Vogelweide, 
"let  us  ever  praise  that  sweet  Tliigin,  to  whom  her  Bon  can 
refuise  nothing.  This  is  our  supreme  consolation :  in  heaven 
ihe  does  whatever  ihe  wiifhes  V*  And  fell  of  anWavering 
confidence  in  the  object  of  80  much  love,  eonvhiced  of  her 
maternal  vigilance,  Christendom  referred  to  her  all  its  troublM 
and  all  its  dangers,  and  reposed  in  that  eonfiidende,  according 
to  the  beautiful  idea  of  a  poet  of  Blfzabeth^s  tim^. 

In  the  spirit  Of  those  ages,  wherein  there  was  so  great  an 
abundance  of  faith  and  love,  two  Hvers  had  inundated  tha 
world ;  it  had  not  only  been  redeemed  by  the  blood  Of  Jesus* 
It  had  been  also  purified  by  the  mtlk  ot  Mary-^by  that  roitk 
Which  had  been  the  nonrishment  of  God  on  earth,  and  which 
reminded  Him  of  heaven ;  it  had  hicessanl  tieiBd  of  both ; 
and,  in  the  words  of  a  pious  monk  who  wrote  the  li<e  of 
Sili2abeth  before  us,  "All  are  entitled  16  entcfr  the  family  of 
Christ,  whan  they  make  a  proper  use  df  the  blood  of  their 
Redeemer  and  their  Father,  and  of  the  milk  of  the  sacred 
?irg!A,  their  mother ;  yes,  of  that  adohible  bktod  whidh  en- 
iMffages  the  mari^  and  aooChei  their  tomnBii  a  a  -»  a  « 


fVYftoi^ocrtos. 


•nd  of  tbat  tirgioil  milk  whidi  iwectena  1^  bitternett  of  our 
cop  by  appeftSiDg  the  wrsth  of  Ood.**  And  again,  we  nnut 
say,  the  enthasiasm  of  this  fiKal  tenderneaa  was  not  enougk 
for  Ihose  lols  so  defoat  towards  the  Yirghii  Motber.  They 
reqaired  a  sentiment  more  tender,  if  possible,  more  ftimiKar, 
more  enconraging.  Hie  sweetest  and  the  poreirt  that  man  can 
oonceiTe.  After  ali,  had  not  Mary  been  a  mere  mortal,  n 
weak  woman,  acquainted  with  all  the  miseries  of  life  ;  who 
had  endured  calamny,  and  exile,  and  cold,  and  hunger  f  Ah  I 
it  was  more  than  a  mother ;  it  was  a  sister  that  Ohristlan 
people  loved  and  cherished  in  ber  I  Hence  she  was  con- 
Btantlrjraplored  to  remember  that  fraternity  so  glorious  for 
the  einled  race  ;  hence,  too,  a  great  Smnt,  tbe  most  ardent 
of  her  votaries,  hesitated  not  to  invoke  her  tbns :  "  O  Mary,** 
said  he,  "  we  beseecn  thee,  «8  Abraham  besonght  Sara  in  the 
land  of  Sgypt  *  ♦  ♦  ♦  o  Mairyl— O  our  Sara  I  jay  thai 
thou  art  our  sister,  so  that  for  thy  eake  God  may  look  favour* 
ably  on  us,  and  that,  tiiroagh  thee,  our  Boale  may  live  in  God  I 
Say  it,  then,  0  our  beloved  Sarat  My  that  thou  art  our  sister, 
and  because  of  our  having  such  a  sister,  the  Egyptians — ^tbait 
ig  to  eay,  the  devil»^will  be  afraid  of  us ;  because,  of  such 
a  sister,  the  angels  will  stand  in  battle  by  our  side  ;  and  the 
Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  will  bave  mercy  on  ua 
on  aecount  of  our  sister." 

It  was  thus  that  they  loved  Mary — fheee  <0hri6tianB  of 
former  di^.  Bat  when  their  love  had  efn^brticed  heaven  %nA 
its  queen,  nnd  all  its  Messed  inhabitants,  'it  descended  again 
to  the  earth  to  people  and  love  it  in  ite  turn.  The  earth 
which  had  been  assigned  for  their  dwelling — the  earth,  that 
bcantilb!  creation  of  God — ^became  also  the  object  of  their 
fertile  solicitude,  of  their  ingenuous  affectioB*  Men  who  were 
then  called  learned,  and  perhaps  Justly,  studied  nature  with 
the  scmpolons  care  wherewith  Christians  ought  to  stody  iba 
works  of  God ;  but  th^-oonld  not  thinit  of  regaar^ng  it  WHk 


IVTBODUOTIOV. 


bodj  withoot  8Q|)erior  life  ;  they  ever  sought  ia  it  mjsterioai 
relatioQS  with  the  daties  and  religious  belief  of  man  ramomed 
by  his  God ;  they  saw  in  the  habits  of  auimalSf  in  the  phe- 
nomena of  plants,  in  the  singing  of  birds,  in  the  virtnes  of 
precious  stones,  so  many  symbols  of  trnth  consecrated  by 
faith.*  Pedantic  nomenclatures  had  not  yet  invaded  anl 
profaned  the  world  which  Christianity  had  regained  for  the 
true  God.  When,  at  night,  the  poor  man  raised  his  eyes  to 
the  blue  dome  above,  he  saw  there,  instead  of  the  Millcy  Way 
of  Juno,  the  road  which  conducted  his  brethren  to  the  pll* 
grimage  of  Compostella,  or  that  by  which  the  Blessed  went 
to  heaven.  Flowers,  especially,  presented  a  world  peopled 
with  the  most  charming  images,  and  a  mute  languagewhich 
expressed  the  liveliest  and  most  tender  sentiments.  The 
people  joined  the  learned  in  giving  to  those  sweet  objects  of 
their  daily  attention  the  names  of  those  whom  they  loved 'the 
most,  the  names  of  Apostles,  of  favourite  Saints,  or  of  Saints 
whose  innocence  and  purity  seemed  reflected  in  the  spotless 
beauty  of  the  flowers.  Our  Elizabeth,  too,  had  her  flower, 
humble  and  hidden,  as  she  always  wished  to  be.  But  Mary 
especially — that  flower  of  flowers^-that  rose  without  a  thorn 
— that  lily  without  a  spot,f  had  an  innumerable  quantity  of 
flowers,  which  her  name  render  airer  and  dearer  to  the 
people.  Every  minute  detail  of  i^e  garments  which  she  wore 
on  earth  was  represented  by  some  flower  more  graceful  than 
the  others ;  these  were  es  relics  scattered  everywhere,  and 
incessantly  renewed.  The  great  lights  of  our  days  have 
thought  it  better  to  replace  her  sweet  memory  by  that  of 


*  Tb*  itady  of  lUktura,  andm  tills  point  of  tIow,  wim  very  common  f  ■  tho  ttilr* 
tNKih  eentdrj,  m  wo  no  bj  tho  SptatUum  itaktraU  of  Yineent  do  BemTai%  mi 
ft  VMfc  Bumbor  of  other  woricn 

t  LIUmm  fine  maoHta,  rota  ttms  tptnia^jhtjlontm^  pbriMt  ftom  the  aaolont 
ntnifjr  of  tho  Ohnfoh,  •  tbootud  timos  ropeatod  by  poets  of  all  oogntries  in  tho 
twottUi  nod  thtrtoonth  ooatariso.  0  Vaifa  mtm  ro$a<,  my,  abo^  St  AlfAonni*  4s 
LyniMl  is  hlft  Otttowatiitt  to  mmw  ^U  Jfiwin  MMMssfaMk 


IV1K0DV0TI01I. 


Tenns.*  Sytfipatlij  was  accounted  miilaal ;  tlie  eartfi  owed 
gratitade  for  that  aflpociation  in  the  religion  of  man.  People 
went,  on  Obristmas  night,  to  announce  to  the  forest-trees  thai 
Christ  was  come :  Aperiaiur  terra  tt  germinai  Saivatorem. 
Bat  the  earth,  in  retam,  was  to  give  roses  and  anemones  in 
the  place  where  man  shed  his  Mood,  and  Jlies  where  he  shed 
tears.  When  a  saintly  woman  died,  all  the  flowers  around 
were  to  wither  at  the  moment,  or  bow  down  as  her  coffin 
passed.  We  can  conceive  that  ardent  fraternity  which  nnited 
St.  Francis  with  all  nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  and  which 
drew  from  him  exclamations  so  plaintive  and  so  admirable. 
All  Christians  had  then,  more  or  less, -the  same  sentiment ; 
for  the  earth,  now  so  lonely,  so  barren  for  the  sonl,  was  then 
impregnated  with  immortal  beauty.  The  birds,  the  plants, 
all  that  man  met  on  his  way,  all  that  had  life,  had  been 
marked  by  him  with  his  faith  and  his  life.  This  earth  wa» 
one  vast  kingdom  of  love,  and  also  of  science  ;  tor  all  had  its 
reason,  and  its  reason  in  faith.  Like  those  burning  rays 
which  shot  Arom  the  wounds  of  Christ,  and  impressed  the 
sacred  stigma  on  the  limbs  of  Francis  of  Assisium,  eves  so 
did  the  beams  fiom  the  heart  of  the  Christian  race,  of  simple 
bnd  fiuthful  man,  stamp  on  every  particle  of  nature  the  remem- 
brance of  heaven,  the  imprint  of  Christ,  the  seal  of  love. 

Tes,  the  world  was,  as  it  were,  an  immense  volume  wherein 
fifty  generations  inscribed  daring  twelve  centuries  their  faith, 
their  emotions,  their  dreams,  with  infinite  tenderness  and  pai- 
tience.  Not  only  had  every  mystery  of  faith,  every  triumph 
of  the  cross  its  page  therein,  but  also  every  flower,  every  fruit, 
every  animal  figured  there  in  its  turn.  As  in  the  ancient  mis* 
Bals  and  great  anthem-books  of  the  old  cathedrals,  beside  the 
\ 

*  For  Instanoe,  the  Sowar  wbteh  la  ■ortpMn  tongMWM  odM  th*  Wir§im*9 
tho«,  has  been  named  Oi/pripedium  Calc4olu9.  A  UMOMnd  other  teataneoe  eooM 
be  given  of  the  gross  Diateriallsm  whieh  disUngnldiee  tbeM  bwtheahb 
Btti  Ibit  la  eaUed  tko^fnfnM  «r  MtMWl 


imTM^^V^JfWi 


\ 


farillUnl  pAiottegi  which  porftny  with  hnplimtiM  ftt 
w«nii  snd  m  pfafooad  (h«  great  acetiet  of  tk^  life  of  Ohtiil 
Mid  of  the  laiotif  tho  test  of  the  laws  of  Ood  and  of  Hie 
dlnoe  Word  was  eeen  snnoanded  by  all  tho  beaatiet  Of 
oAtare ;  all  animated  beiap  were  there  broaght  together  to 
siog  the  ptaieee  of  the  Lord,  and  aagels  eaiae  forth  for  that 
porpoee  from  the  eop  of  every  diftmei.  Thia  woe  the  Ze^ra< 
the  reading  of  the  poor  and  the  aimple,  the  Ooepel  adapted 
for  tiieir  uie,  Biblia  pauperum/  Their  inuocent  eyes  diaoor- 
ered  therein  a.  thoasaod  beanties  the  sense  of  which  it  now 
for  ever  lost.  Heaven  and  earth  appeared  therein  peopled 
with  the  most  exquisite  skill  Well  might  th^  sing  with  sfaif 
eerily  of  heart,  PUni  »uui  msU  et  krm  gUmA  tua — ^Heatvea 
and  earth  are  fcU  of  Thy  glory  1 

Who  can  calculate  how  impoverished  life  is  since  thenif 
,  Who  thinks  aow-iniayB  of  the  imagination  ot  the  poer^  the 
heart  of  the  ignosant  7 

Oht  t^  world  was  then  wrapt,  up  by  faith,  as  it  were^  in 
a.  beneficent  veil  which  oonceakd  idl  earthly  wonndSi  and  ho* 
came  transparent  for  the  splendoac  of  heaven.  Now,,  it,  is 
otherwise  ^  tha  earth  is  aU  nakad,^  heaven  is  aU  veiled. 
.  To  dotiiG  the  world;  m  this  consoiiHg  vestare,  il  reqsuiid 
the  complete  and  ooceserved  nnton  of  the  two  principles  which 
were. so  wonderfully  nnited  in  EliEabeth  and  her  agei  aimt>li- 
cil^  and  ikith.  Now^  as  every  one  kaows  and  says;  tbey  hara 
disappeared  from  the  maas  of  society ;  the  former,  eqMoiai}y, 
has  been  eompletely  eitiipated»,  not  only  from  pnbKe  Jife^  but 
alao  from  poetry,  from  private  and  domestic  life,  from>  ttie 
few  asylums  where  the  other  has  remained.  It  was  not  witii- 
ont  coDBommate  MSX  that  the  atheistic  science  and  impioas 
philosophy  of  modern  times  pronounced  their  divorce  before 
condemaiag  them*  to  die.  When  once  their  holy  and  sweet 
aifiance  had  been  broken  up,  those  two  celestial  sisters  could 
only  meet  in  some  few  obsciira  sonli^  amongst  soma  soattend 


gnd  oigleeled  people;  ud  Uws  tkty  wiUoad  iapArtlilj  to 
d«atli. 

It  is  uDneeim!:,r7  to  ny,  bowefw,  that  this  dtolh  wm 
onlj  apptrent — only  exile.  They  kept  in  the  beeoM  of  the 
imperishable  Cbarch,  the  cratie  whence  tbey  weat  forth  to 
people  aad  decorate  the  werU.  All  nea  may  find  them 
there ;  all  men  nay  likewise  trace  their  coarse  by  the  iia- 
mortal  relicB  which  they  scattered  as  they  went^  and  which 
Dooe  hare  yet  succeeded  in  annihilating.  Their  number  is  so 
great,  their  besnty  so  striking,  that  one  might  be  tempted  to 
believe  that  God  had  designedly  permitted  all  the  elterior 
charms  of  Catholicity  to  fall  a  moment  into  obliyion,  so  ai 
that  those  who  remained  feithfal  to  it  throogh  all  the  proba- 
tions of  modem  times  might  have  the  ineffable  happiaess  of 
finding  them  ont  and  revealing  them  anew. 

There,  then,  lies  a  whole  world  to  regain  for  history  and 
^try.  Even  piety  will  find  new  treasures  in  it.  Let  none 
reproach  us  with  stirring  vBp  ashes  for  ever  extinguished,  or 
searching  amid  hreparable  ruins;  that  which  would  be  trot 
of  human  institutions  has  no  application  to  the  sul^ect  before 
as — at  least,  as  Catholics  believe—- for,  if  it  be  true  that  the 
Church  is  undying,  it  follows  that  nothing  that  her  hand  has 
ODce  touched,  her  breath  inspired,  can  die  for  ever.  It  suffices 
that  she  has  deposited  there  a  germ  of  her  own  principle^  a 
ray  of  the  fadeless  and  immutable  beauty  which  she  received 
with  her  lifSfc.  If  it  has  once  been  so,  it  is  in  vain  that  the 
elottds  darken  around,  that  the  snows  of  winter  are  heaped 
above  it ;  it  is  always  time  to  dig  ont  the  root,  to  shake  off 
lome  modem  dost,  to  break  asonder  some  factitious  bonds,  to 
repkint  it  in  some  genial  soil,  aad  restore  to  the  iower  the 
htoom  akid  the  perfume  of  former  dayrn 

We  should  not  like  to  have  it  inferrw^,  from  the  ideas 

which  we  have  pat  forward,  that  we  are  hind  admirers  o2 

the  middle  •^m^  thiit  we  ale  ki  (beni  «very  tiling  admirably 
5 


1. 


V  I 


r 


•8  ISTftOlVOTIOW. 

•Dfiable  tnd  irreproachftble,  and  that,  in  oor  own  age,  wt 
consider  the  nationi  wholly  incurable.  Far  be  it  from  ns  to 
waste  onr  energies  in  Tain  regrets  and  our  sight  in  useless 
tears  over  the  grave  of  generations  passed  awajr.  We  know 
tliat  the  Son  of  God  died  on  the  cross  to  save  humanity,  not 
for  fi?e  or  six  centuries,  but  for  the  whole  period  of  the 
world's  existence.  We  think  not  that  the  Word  of  Qod  has 
failed  or  that  his  arm  is  shortened.  The  mission  of  pure  man 
remains  the  same;  the  Christian  has  still  his  salvation  to 
work  out,  and  his  neighbour  to  serve.  We  regret  not,  then — 
though  we  admire  them — any  of  the  human  institutions  which 
have  perished  according  to  the  lot  of  human  things,  but  we 
do  bitterly  regret  the  soul,  the  divine  breath  whereby  they 
were  animated,  and  which  has  departed  firom  those  that  have 
replaced  them.  We  preach  not,  then,  either  the  barren  con- 
temptation  of  the  past,  or  a  contempt  for  and  base  desettion 
of  the  present.  Once  more  we  repeat,  far  be  such  a  thought 
from  our  minds.  But  as  the  exile,  banished  from  his  native  land 
for  having  remained  faithfbl  to  the  eternal  laws,  sends  many 
a  loving  thought  back  to  those  who  have  loved  him,  and  who 
await  his  return  to  his  native  land ;  as  the  soldier  fighting  on 
distant  shores  is  inflamed  at  the  recital  of  the  victories  gained 
there  by  bis  fathers ;  so  it  is  permitted  us,  whom  our  faith 
renders  as  exiles  amid  modem  society,  to  raise  our  hearts  and 
eyes  towards  the  blessed  inhabitants  of  our  heavenly  home, 
and,  humble  soldiers  as  we  are  of  the  cause  which  has  glorified 
them,  to  gather  courage  also  firom  the  remembrance  of  their 
ftmggles  and  their  victories. 

We  know  but  too  well  what  crimes  and  sufferings  and 
eomplaints  there  were  in  the  ages  which  we  have  studied  ;  as 
there  always  were,  and  always  shall  be,  so  long  as  the  earth 
k  peopled  with  fallen  and  sinfbl  men.  But  we  think  that  be- 
tween the  evils  of  those  ages  and  those  of  our  own  times  then 
are  two  ineatenlable  dUfereiicei.   In  the  first  place,  the  energy 


ffVTftODirOTIOW. 


of  erfl  waf  eferjwhere  met  bj  an  energy  of  good  which  seemed 
to  iucreaie  bj  being  provoked  to  the  combat,  and  by  which  ft 
was  incessantly  and  manifeatly  overcome.  Thia  glorioas  re- 
sistance had  its  origin  in  the  force  of  convictions  which  were 
rrcognised  in  their  inflaence  over  the  entire  life  ;  to  say  thai 
this  force  has  not  diminished  according  ai  faith  and  religions 
practice  have  departed  fh>m  sonls,  wonld  assuredly  be  In  con- 
tradiction to  the  experience  of  history  and  the  world's  memory 
We  are  far  from  dispnting  the  splendid  progress  that  is  made 
under  certain  relations,  but  we  will  say  with  an  eloquent 
writer  of  the  present  time,  whose  own  words  will  acquit  him 
of  any  partiality  for  by-gone  ages :  "  Morality  is,  undoubt- 
edly, more  enlightened  in  these  days ;  bat  is  it  stronger  ? 
Where  is  the  heart  that  does  not  thrill  with  delight,  seeing 
the  triumph  of  equality  ?♦♦*♦!  only  fear  that  in 
talcing  so  just  a  view  of  his  rights,  man  may  have  lost  some- 
what of  the  sense  of  his  duties.  It  is  truly  painful  to  seo 
that,  in  this  progress  of  all  things,  moral  foice  has  not  in- 
creased." 

Those  evils  from  which  the  world  then  suffered  and  of 
which  it  justly  complained,  were  all  physical,  all  material 
Person,  property,  bodily  freedom,  were  exposed,  outraged, 
trampled  on  more  than  they'now  are,  in  certain  countries ; 
this  we  are  free  to  admit.  But  then  the  soul,  the  conbuience, 
the  heart,  were  sound,  pure,  untainted,  freb  trim  that  fright- 
ful  inward  disease  by  which  they  are  now  gnawvd.  Each  one 
knew  what  he  had  to  believe,  what  he  might  learn,  what  ne 
was  to  think  of  all  those  problems  of  human  life  and  human 
destiny,  which  are  now  so  many  sources  of  torment  for  the  souls 
whom  they  huve  again  succeeded  in  paganising.  Misfortune, 
poverty,  oppression,  which  are  now  no  more  extirpated  than 
they  formerly  were,  stood  not  up  before  the  man  of  thosa 
times  as  a  dread  fatality  of  which  he  was  the  innocent  victim. 
He  sufiTered  from  them,  but  he  understood  them :  he  might 


1^ 


}icm. 


be  oTtnrbeliDed  bj  tbem,  but  be  nerer  deepi^'ted ;  for 
•till  romalned  to  bim,  and  man  coald  laterrkpi  none  of  tbe 
mcaiiB  of  comnnnicatioo  between  the  prison  of  his  body  aad 
the  home  of  bis  soul.  There  was  a  sound  and  robust  ntoral 
health  which  nentraiiied  all  the  diseases  of  the  social  body, 
opposiug  to  them  an  all-powerful  antidote, — a  positife,  a  oni* 
versal,  a  perpetual  consolation— faith.  That  foith  which  had 
penetrated  the  world,  wbioh  dahued  all  men  without  excep- 
tion, which  had  infused  itself  into  all  the  pores  of  societj  like 
a  beneficent  sap,  offering  to  all  infirmities  a  simple  and  a9 
effectual  remedj,  the  same  for  all,  within  reach  of  all,  ande^ 
flood  by  all,  accepted  by  alL 

Now,  the  evil  is  still  there ;  it  Is  not  only  presert,  bat 
known,  studied,  analysed  with  extreme  care ;  its  dissection 
would  be  perfect,  its  autopsy  exact ;  bat  where  are  the  reme- 
dies to  prevent  that  vast  body  from  becoming  a  corpse  ?  Its 
new  leeches  have  spent  lour  hundred  years  in  drying  it  up,  in 
tucking  out  that  divine  and  salutary  sap  which  conatitnted  its 
life.    What  substitute  are  they  going  to  give  ? 

It  is  now  time  to  judge  of  the  course  which  they  have  led 
humanity  to  pursue.  Christian  nations  have  allowed  their 
mother  to  be  dethroned ;  those  tender  and  powerful  hands 
which  bad  a  awocd  ever  ready  to  avenge  their  wrongs^  s 
balm  to  heal  all  their  wounds,  they  havd  seen  loaded  with 
chains ;  the  wreath  of  flowers  has  been  Ux-n  from  her  brow, 
and  soaked  in  the  acid  of  tmsom  till  every  leaf  fell  off,  withered 
and  lost  Philosophy,  deq^iotism  and  anarehy  led  her  captive 
before  men  loading  her  with  insult  axid  contumely ;  then  they 
ehut  her  up  in  a  dungeon  which  thoy  called  hor  tomb,  and  »t 
its  door  all  three  keipt  watch^ 

And  yet  she  has  left  in  the  world  a  void  which  nothing 
av^r  can  fill;  not  only  is  it  that  idl  faithful  hearts  deplore  ber 
misfortunes;  that  every  sopl  that  is  not  yet  contaminated 
^h$  ftf^r  a  pqrer  «ir  tj^  t^t  pf  th^  world  which  her  i|^ 


ivrmouuvtioVf 


im 


MDM  Ui  BMdt  pestiferooi ;  tliat  aII  thoM  who  b«f  e  not  yel 
Lost  tht  Motimciii  of  their  dignity  aad  of  thtir  immorUU  on* 
gin  demand  to  be  brooght  bttck  to  her  fold ;  bat,  abof  e  all, 
thoee  aflUoted  ■oaU,  who  leek  eferjrwhere,  bat  In  ?ain,  a 
remedy  for  their  aorrowi,  an  explanation  of  their  dreary  lo^ 
who  find  nowhere  anght  aa? e  the  empty  and  moaraful  pUot 
of  ancient  faith,  theie  who  will  not  and  cannot  be  consoled, 

Well  1  wa  firmly  beliefe  that  a  day  will  come  when  ho- 
manity  will  aeek  to  emerge  from  the  deaert  which  haa  been 
made  aroond  her;  she  will  ask  for  the  songs  that  soothed  her 
childhood,  she  will  sigh  to  breathe  again  the  perfumes  of  her 
yoath,  to  moisten  her  parched  lips  at  her  mother's  breast,  and 
to  taste  once  more  before  she  dies  that  pure,  fresh  milk  which 
nourished  her  infancy.  And  the  gates  of  thart  mother's  prison 
shall  be  broken  by  the  shook  of  so  many  soflering  souls ;  and 
she  will  go  forth  fairer,  stronger,  more  benign  than  ever. 
8he  will  no  longer  wear  the  fresh  and  simple  beanty  of  her 
early  years,  when  she  had  just  escaped  from  the  first  bloody 
persecutions  ;  hers  will  then  be  the  grave  and  majestic  loveli* 
ness  of  the  strong  woman,  who  has  read  over  the  histories  of 
martyrs  and  confessors,  and  added  thereto  her  own  page,  la 
h(T  eyes  shall  be  seen  the  traces  of  tears,  and  on  her  brow  the 
dc>ep  farrows  made  by  sniEering ;  die  will  only  appear  more 
worthy  the  homage  and  adoratkm  of  those  who  have  soifered 
like  herselt 

She  will  resome  her  new  and  glorioos  coarse,  the  end 
wliereof  is  only  known  to  Qod  ;  bat  while  awaiting  the  time 
when  the  world  will  again  solicit  her  to  preside  over  its  af- 
fairs, her  faithful  children  know  that  they  can  every  day 
receive  from  her  infinite  help  and  consolation.  Hence  it  is 
that  they — the  children  of  light— need  not  fear  what  a  faitV 
less  world  calls  her  decay ;  amidst  the  darkness  which  thai 
world  gathers  around  them,  they  will  neither  be  daaded  Mf 


IM 


IVTBODVOTIOV. 


!od  utnj  by  Mj  of  the  Mm  meteon  of  tlie  glooiiij  nlgbt 
Culm  and  confident,  they  reoiain  with  their  eyes  fixed  ii 
ptfHulfaft  hope  on  that  etenul  Eut  which  nerer  ceaaee  to 
•kine  for  them,  and  where  generations,  leated  in  the  shadow 
of  death,  shall  also  one  day  behold  the  only  tme  and  lacrcd 
Bon  ready  to  orerpower  with  hli  triumphant  iplendoar  the 
ingratitude  of  men. 

In  conclasion,  far  be  it  from  na  to  attempt  iof?ing  what  is 
csHed  "  the  problem  of  the  age,*  or  gfving  a  key  to  all  the 
conflicting  intelligence  of  oor  days.  Our  ideas  are  not  so  am- 
bttioos.  We  are  rather  of  opinion  that  all  sach  presnmptaoni 
projects  are  stmck  with  radical  sterility.  All  the  vast  and 
most  progpressiye  systems  which  human  wisdom  has  brought 
forth,  as  substitutes  for  religion,  have  never  succeeded  in 
Interesting  any  but  the  learned,  the  ambitious,  or,  at  most, 
the  prosperous  and  happy.  But  the  great  majority  of  man- 
kind can  nerer  come  under  these  categories.  The  great  ma- 
jority of  men  are  suiTcring,  and  suffering  from  moral  as  well 
as  physical  evils.  Man's  first  bread  is  g^ef,  and  his  first 
want  is  consolation.  Now,  which  of  these  systems  has  ever 
consoled  an  afBicted  heart  or  re-peopled  a  lonely  one  ? 
Which  of  their  teachers  has  ever  shown  men  how  to  wipe 
away  a  tear  ?  Christianity  alone  has,  from  the  beginning, 
promised  to  console  man  in  the  sorrows  incidental  to  life,  by 
purifying  the  inclinations  of  his  heart;  and  she  alone  has  kept 
her  promise.  Thus,  let  us  bear  in  mind  that,  before  we  think 
of  replacing  her,  we  should  commence  by  clearing  the  earth 
of  pain  and  sorrow.  . 

Such  are  the  thoughts  which  animated  us  while  writing 
the  life  of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  who  loved  much  and  suf- 
fered much,  but  whose  affections  were  all  purified  by  religion, 
and  her  sufferings  all  consoled.  We  offer  to  our  brethren  b 
the  faith  a  book  differing  in  its  subject  and  in  its  form  from 
the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  we  live.    But  simplicity,  hnmli 


IVTBODUOTIOV. 


lot 


itjr  and  charit/,  whose  wooden  we  are  abooi  to  relate,  art, 
liku  the  God  who  inipirca  them,  abofe  all  timet  and  placet. 
We  oiil/  ask  that  thia  work  may  bear  to  some  simple  or  tor* 
rowful  souls  a  reflection  of  the  sweet  emotiont  wnlch  we  baft 
enjoyed  while  writing  itl  May  it  Mccud  to  the  Ettmtl 
Throne  as  an  hamble  and  timid  spark  from  that  did  Ctlfcoll 
flame  which  it  not  yet  extinct  in  all  hcartt  I 
Mat  In,  ISIt, 


\ 


.S'te' 


ST.  ELIZABETH,  OF  HUNGART,     ^ 


LDXT0HSS3  OF  THXTRINQIA 


OHAPTBR  L 


now  DUKB  HXRMAVIT  REfCRnO)  Hff  THUROrOIibi  HID  KIKO  AHDRI  W  n 
nuNOABY,  AND  HOW  THB  DEAB  8T.  BLIZABBtB  WAS  BOB»  At 
PRBSBOOBa,  AHD  WAS  BBOUVBT  TO  BBBMACft 

Qaaal  itelk  nutiitlM  In  medio  iwbnia.— Sedat.  L  i 

'*  Etlttfteth  tat  fln«  d'ang  nobto  roy,  et  tat  aobto  da  Hgnaga;  mats  alia  Ait  flm 
noble  par  fey  at  rallgloii;  at  m  traa  noble  Ngna*  alia  I'annoblit  par  azampla;  ala 
I'dsdairohtt  per  mirado;  aUa  rambaUtt  par  grao*  da  aaiatiti.**— «/iHM  Xav^f^  Amu* 
de  Ifaimvi,  L  xItI. 

Amongst  the  princes  who  reigned  in  Germany  at  the  com- 
niencement  of  the  thirteenth  isentnry,  there  was  not  one  more 
powerfd  or  more  renowned  than  Hermann,  Lan<%raTe^  er 
Duke  of  Tharingi%  and  Cooat  Pidatino  of  Saxony.  The 
courage  and  talents  which  be  hod  inherited  with  the  possea- 
Bions  of  hit  illastriona  father,  Lonis  Le  Ferr6,  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  prhncea  of  the  middle  ages — {he  special  pr»* 
tcctlon  of  Pope  Innocent  III. — ^hii  near  relationship  to  the 
emperor  Frederic  Barbarossa,  whose  nephew  ha  wa&^hm 
trieudahip  with  king  Ottooar  of  Bohemia,  and  the  hoasei  of 
Saxoaji  Ba^ariai  and  Aoatria— tha  poiition  of  hie  faat 


10« 


tiri    OF    0T.    KLXZABXTB, 


estates  in  the  centre  of  Germany,  extending  from  the  Lah« 
to  the  Elbe — all  combined  to  confer  on  bim  considerable 
political  importance. 

Though  he  was  not  one  of  the  seven  electors  of  the  Holy 
Roman  empire,  it  was  nevertheless  his  influence  which  deter- 
mined their  choice,  and  his  alliance  was  decisive  of  the  suc- 
cess of  any  pretender  to  the  imperial  crowu.  He  was  thus 
more  than  once  the  arbiter  of  the  destiny  of  the  empire. 
'*  When  a  king  is  found  wanting  in  the  proper  exercise  of  his 
power,  or  is  known  to  exceed  its  limits,"  says  a  contemporary 
poet,  "  the  Lord  of  Thurlngia  takes  away  his  crown,  and 
gives  it  to  whom  he  wills."  It  was  principally  to  this  inflo- 
euce  that  the  celebrated  emperor  Frederic  II.  owed  his  election 
in  tiie  year  1211. 

It  was  not  alone  the  power  of  Hermann  that  attracted  to 
him  the  respect  of  all  Germany  ;  he  was  still  more  distin- 
guished for  his  boundless  generosity,  learning,  and  piety.  He 
never  retired  to  rest  withont  having  heard  or  read  a  lesson 
from  the  Holy  Scriptures.  In  his  youth  he  had  studied  at 
Paris,  which  was  then  the  sanctuary  of  all  learning,  sacred 
and  profane ;  he  had  au  arlent  love  of  poetry ;  during  his 
reign  he  collected  carefully  the  heroic  poems  of  the  ancient 
Germans,  and  employed  a  number  of  writers  to  transcribe 
the  songs  of  the  old  masters. 

Living  at  the  epoch  in  which  Catholic  and  chivalroas 
poetry  shed  its  purest  ray  on  Germany,  he  comprehended 
all  its  immortal  beauty,  though  he  could  not,  like  the  emperrT 
Henry  YI.  and  a  number  of  the  princes  and  nobles  of  his 
time,  take  his  place  amongst  the  bards  of  love  (Minnesinger) 
and  hear,  like  them,  his  verses  chaunted  in  the  baron's  hall 
and  peasant's  hut ;  yet  none  of  them  coold  surpass  him  ic 
admiration  of  the  gai  savoir,  or  in  mnnificence  and  affection 
towards  all  poets  ;  they  composed  his  society,  and  were  the 
ol^iects  of  his  most  tender  soUcitnde.    His  court  we«  a  home 


OF    aUHOART. 


101 


U)  cTery  child  of  song,  and  to  the  end  of  his  itormy  life  he 
prescrTed  this  >rcdilccti  n  of  his  early  years.  His  glory  and 
his  virtues  h  ^  been  well  commemorated,  for  his  name  ii 
mentioned  iu  the  "  Titurel,"  the  "  Parci/oi;'  and  in  all  the 
most  popular  monuments  of  national  poetry.  Thus  Walthcr 
Vcn  der  Yogelweide,  the  greatest  poet  of  that  period,  hai 
Ruid  of  him,  "  Other  princes  are  most  clement,  but  none  is  so 
(renerous  as  he.  He  was  so,  and  is  still.  Ko  one  suffers  from 
'lis  caprice.  The  flower  of  Thnringia  blooms  in  the  midst  of 
the  snow;  the  summer  and  the  winter  of  its  glory  are  as  mild 
and  beautiful  as  was  its  spring.'' 

It  happened  in  the  year  1206,  that  Duke  Hermann  being 
nt  his  Castle  of  Wartbourg,  situated  on  a  height  above  the 
town  of  Eisenach,  assembled  at  his  court  six  of  the  most 
rmowned  poets  of  Germany,  viz  :  Hernrich  Schrieber,  Wal- 
ther  Von  der  Vogelweide,  Wolfram  D'Eschenback,  Reinhart 
de  Zwetzen,  all  four  knights  of  ancient  lineage  ;  Bitterolf, 
comptroller  of  the  household,  and  Heinrich  D'Ofterdingen, 
A  simple  burgess  of  Eisenach.  A  violent  rivalry  was  soon 
declared  between  the  five  poets  of  noble  birth,  and  the  poof 
Heinrich,  who  was  at  least  their  equal  in  talent  and  popu- 
Inrity.  Tradition  accuses  them  of  having  sought  his  life,  and 
relates  that  one  day  the  five  rushed  upon  him,  and  would 
hare  killed  him,  but  that  he  escaped,  and  took  refuge  with  the 
Duchess  Sophia,  who  hid  him  under  the  folds  of  her  mantle. 
When  this  occurred  the  duke  was  engaged  in  hunting. 

To  put  an  end  to  their  differences,  they  agreed  to  meet  iH 
a  public  and  final  combat  before  the  Duke  and  his  court;  they 
also  required  the  presence  of  the  executioner,  rope  in  hand, 
ind  he  was  to  hang,  during  the  sitting  of  the  assembly,  him 
V  hose  verses  should  be  declared  inferior  to  those  of  his  rivals, 
lius  showing  that  in  their  eyes  glory  and  life  were  insepa* 
a))le.  The  Duke  consented,  and  pre  ided  himself  at  this 
olemn  strife,  the  fame  whereof  was  spread  throoghout  Ger 


Mi 


IXVI    OV    IT.    BIICABBTH, 


Banj,  and  at  which  asBembled  a  crowd  of  knights  and 
nobles. 

The  combatants  sang  by  tnrns,  and  in  the  most  Tailed 
forms,  the  ealogiums  of  their  fayoarite  princes — the  great 
mysteries  of  religion — the  mysterions  marriage  of  the  soul 
with  the  body  at  the  resurrection— -the  inezhaostible  clemency 
of  God — the  efficacy  of  repentance— the  empire  of  the  cross 
— and,  above  all,  the  glories  of  Mary,  the  beloved  of  God, 
more  beantiful  than  mercy,  more  brilliant  than  the  san. 
These  songs,  preserved  by  the  aadience,  are  still  extant,  nuder 
the  title  of  "  The  War  of  Wartbourg." 

This  collection  forms  at  the  present  day  one  of  the  most 
important  monuments  of  Germanic  literature,  being  at  once 
a  treasury  of  ancient  and  popular  traditions,  and  serving  to 
show  what  an  influence  poetry  exercised  on  the  society,  learn- 
ing, and  faith  of  that  age. 

It  was  impossible  to  decide  the  merits  of  the  rival  minstrels, 
and  it  was  agreed  that  Heinrich  D'Ofterdingen  should  set  out 
for  Transylvania,  there  to  seek  the  renowned  master,  Kling- 
sohr,  so  celebrated  for  his  knowledge  of  the  seven  liberal 
arts,  and  for  his  proficiency  in  astronomy  and  necromancy  ; 
tradition  says  that  even  spirits  were  forced  to  obey  him,  and, 
to  secure  his  great  services,  the  king  of  Hungary  granted 
him  a  pension  of  3,000  marks  of  silver.  A  delay  of  one  year 
Was  granted  to  Heinrich  to  perform  this  journey,  and  at  the 
appointed  day  he  returned  to  Eisenach,  accompanied  by 
Klingsohr. 

Whilst  all  the  chivalry  of  Germany  Were  engaged  in 
debating  on  the  merits  of  this  combat,  the  fame  of  which  was 
to  descend  to  posterity,  the  Lord,  always  careful  of  the  glory 
of  his  elect,  ordained  that  it  should  surround  with  a  halo  of 
poesy  and  popular  glory  the  cradle  of  one  of  His  most  humble 
Mrvants. 

KiiiigBoltf  being  anrived  at  Eiseiacb,  sojourned  at  Urn 


OF    BVVOAtr. 


109 


mrned  at  tlw 


hostel  of  Heiiiy  Hellgref,  at  the  left  side  of  Si  CMrgi^ 
Gate,  descended  on  the  evening  of  his  arriTal  into  the  garden 
of  his  hosty  wherein  were  seferal  of  the  nobles  of  He«e  and 
Thnringia,  come  expressly  to  Tisit  him ;  there  were  there  also 
officers  of  the  Ducal  ooart,  and  a  namber  of  the  honest 
towMiaen  of  Eisenach,  who,  according  to  an  ancient  and  stilt 
existing  costom  in  Germany,  came  there  to  drink  the  erening 
cap.  These  good  people  surronnded  the  sage,  and  asked  him 
to  tell  them  something  new ;  upon  which  he  began  to  con* 
template  the  stars  attentively  for  a  long  time.  At  length  ha 
said  to  them,  "  I  will  tell  yon  something  both  new  and 
joyous.  I  see  a  beautiful  star  rising  in  Hungary,  the  rays  of 
which  extend  to  Marbourg,  and  from  Marbourg  over  all  tha 
world.  Know  even  that  on  this  night  there  is  born  to  my 
lord,  the  king  of  Hungary,  a  daughter,  who  shall  be  named 
Elizabeth.  She  shall  be  given  in  marriage  to  ths'son  of  your 
prince,  she  shall  become  a  saint,  and  her  sanctity  shall  rejoica 
and  console  all  Christendom.'' 

The  bystanders  heard  these  words  with  great  joy,  and 
next  morning  the  knights  returned  to  Wartbonrg,  to  tell  tha 
news  to  the  Landgrave,  whom  they  met  as  he  was  going  to 
mass.  Not  wishing  to  distract  his  attention,  they  waited 
until  after  the  celebration  of  the  holy  sacrifiee,  and  then  they 
related  to  him  all  that  had  occurred  on  the  previous  evening. 
It  was  a  matter  of  surprise  to  the  prince,  and  to  the  whola 
court,  and,  calling  for  his  horse,  the  Landgrave  went  with  a 
numerous  escort  to  visit  Klingsohr,  and  to  entreat  hha  to 
return  with  him  to  Wartbonrg.  Thera  he  Waa  treated  with 
the  highest  honour,  and  tho  "priests  paid  him  the  sama 
reverence  that  they  wonid  to  a  bishop,''  says  a  contemporary 
writer.. 

The  Landgrave  made  him  dine  at  the  royal  table,  and  after 
the  repast  they  conversed  for  a  long  time.  Hermann,  whose 
paternal  soixiety  was  already  awakened,  asked  him  aaay 


10 


LIFR    OF    ST.     BLfSABITR, 


qoeftioM  relative  to  the  affairM  of  Hongary,  whether  the  kicg 
was  engaged  ia  many  undertakings,  whether  he  was  at  peace 
with  the  infidels,  or  whether  the  war  iiad  re-oommonoed, 
Klingsohr  satisfied  his  cnrioaity  by  entering  into  all  these 
details ;  after  which  he  engaged  himself  in  the  great  cause 
which  had  brought  him  to  Eisenach.  He  presided  at  the  new 
contest  of  the  poets,  and  succeeded  in  allaying  the  hatred 
which  tlie  noble  rivals  entertained  against  Heinrieh,  and  made 
them  publicly  recognise  his  merit.  He  then  returned  to 
Hungary  as  he  came,  and  that  was,  according  to  popular 
tradition,  in  a  single  night. 

Now,  Hungary  was  governed  by  king  Andrew  II.,  whose 
reign  was  agreeable  to  God  and  to  the  people.  Illustrious 
by  his  wars  against  the  pagan  nations  that  surrounded  his 
dominions,  he  was  still  more  so  by  his  earnest  piety  and 
generosity  to  the  Church  and  to  the  poor.  Some  of  the  vast 
gold  mines  which  still  enrich  Hungary  were  discovered  during 
his  reign,  and  his  faithful  people  saw  in  that  circumstance  a 
reward  granted  by  God  on  account  of  his  many  virtues.  The 
miners  came  one  day  to  relate  to  the  king  that  as  they  dug 
into  the  side  of  a  mountain  they  heard  a  voice  desiring  them 
to  proceed  courageously,  for  that  it  contained  a  vast  amount 
of  gold,  destined  by  the  Almighty  as  a  recompense  for  An- 
drew's virtues.  The  king  rejoiced  at  this  mark  of  the  Divine 
fav .  .7,  and  profited  of  it  to  build  churches,  found  convents, 
and  to  increase  his  alms  to  the  poor. 

Andrew's  queen  was  Gertrude  of  Merania,  or  Andechs 
one  of  the  most  illnstrions  houses  of  the  empire  in  the  thir 
teenth  century.  She  was  a  descendant  in  a  direct  line  from 
Charlemagne,  and  possessed  the  most  beautiful  prorinces  in 
the  south  of  Germany.  Gertrude's  father,  Berchtold  III,, 
was  Duke  of  Merania  and  Carinthia,  margrave  of  Istria,  and 
sovereign  of  the  Tyrol  Her  brother,  Berchtold  lY.,  in  1198 
itfaied  the  imperial  crown,  which  was  tendered  ananimoosiy 


Of  ■uvoAmr. 


in 


bj  the  electing  princee.  One  of  her  sisters,  afterwordi 
canonised,  was  Hedwige,  dachess  of  Silesia  and  Poland  ; 
another,  Agnes,  so  celebrated  for  her  l)eantj  and  misfortnnes, 
was  wife  to  Philip  Aagnstns,  king  of  France.  Gertmdo 
eqnalled  her  husband  in  piety  ;  historians  speak  of  her 
coarage,  and  her  mascalinc  soul.  The  most  tender  loTO 
united  this  noble  couple.  In  the  year  1207,  on  the  day  and 
at  the  hour  announced  by  Rlingsohr  at  Eisenach,  Queen 
Gertrude  being  then  at  Presburg,  gave  birth  to  a  daughter, 
who  at  the  font  received  the  name  of  Elizabeth.  The  cere- 
monies of  her  baptism  were  conducted  with  great  magniii- 
ccnce  ;  the  royal  babe  was  carried  to  the  church  under  a 
canopy  of  the  richest  stuffs  that  could  be  procured  at  Boda» 
which  was  then  one  of  the  principal  marts  of  Oriental  luxury. 

From  the  cradle,  this  child  gave  proo&  of  the  sublime 
destiny  for  which  God  reserved  her.  The  names  consecrated 
by  religion  were  the  first  sounds  that  attracted  her  attention, 
and  the  first  words  uttered  by  her  infant  lips.  She  paid  a 
wonderful  attention  to  the  rudiments  of  faith ;  already  an 
interior  light  aided  her  to  comprehend  these  holy  truths. 

At  the  ag^  of  three  years,  according  to  the  historian,  she 
expressed  her  compassion  for  the  poor,  and  sought  to  alleviate 
their  misery  by  gifts.  The  virtues  of  her  future  life  were 
thus  prefigured  in  her  infancy ;  her  first  act  was  an  alms* 
deed,  her  first  word  a  prayer.  Immediately  after  her  birth, 
the  wars  in  which  Hungary  was  engaged,  ceased — the  interior 
dissensions  of  the  kingdom  were  calmed  down.  This  tran- 
quillity soon  penetrated  from  pnblic  into  private  life.  Tiola* 
tioDS  of  the  law  of  God,  curses,  and  blasphemies,  became  less 
frequent,  and  Andrew  saw  fulfilled  all  the  desires  that  a 
Christian  king  could  form  Simple  and  pious  souls  remarked 
(he  coincidence  of  this  sudden  peace  and  prosperity  with  the 
birth  of  the  child,  whose  piety  was  so  precocious  ;  and  when 
afkenrards  they  saw  so  brilliantly  realised  the  promised 


IIS 


Liri.ef  IT.  aLiM'STH, 


1 


Tivtuet  of  h«r  early  yean,  the  Hanfatians  levMl  |e  my,  t|«l 
ii»f  er  did  royal  infaat  bring  M  oiany  biettings  to  her  country. 

Meanwhiio,  Duke  Hermaoft  left  uo  means  untned  to  fiqd 
out  it  the  predictions  of  Klingsokr  had  ooiue  to  pass,  #M 
whether  a  princess  was  bom  in  Hiuigary  on  the  day  be  knf* 
told.  And  when  he  learned,  not  only  her  birth,  but  stHl 
more  the  marks  of  devotion  she  already  efineed,  and  the 
happiness  that  she  seemed  to  have  brougbt  from  heaven  to 
her  country,  he  conceiTed  the  most  ardent  desire  to  see  the 
prediction  entirely  afXKNnpUshed,  and  his  young  son  espoused 
to  SIHzabeth. 

The  travellers  that  arrived,  fhm  time  to  time,  from  Hub* 
gary,  which  was  then  scarcely  more  isolated  than  it  is  at 
present  from  the  rest  of  Europe,  often  brought  him  sonw 
•oconnt  of  the  daughter  of  king  Andrew.  One  day  parti- 
enlarly,  a  monk  who  came  from  Hungary  related  to  the  Dnkt 
that,  having  been  blind  from  the  age  of  fdur  years,  he  wafi 
suddenly  cured  by  the  touch  of  the  young  princess.  "  AH 
Hungary,^  said  he,  "  rejoices  in  this  child,  for  she  has  broughi 
peace  with  her.** 

This  was  sufllciefit  to  decide  Hennanu  to  send  an  embassy 
composed  of  lords  and  noble  ladies,  to  the  king  of  Hungary, 
to  demand  aS  him,  in  the  name  of  the  young  Louis,  the  hand 
of  Elisabeth,  and,  if  possible,  to  bring  her  with  them  to 
Thuringia.  He  selected  for  this  mission  Ooont  Reinhard  de 
Mulhbcrg,  Oauthier  de  YarOa,  bis  cup-bearer,  and  the  Lady 
Bertha,  widow  of  Egilolf  de  BeindelibaD,  who  was,  accord 
ing  tp  the  Gbroniclers,  famed  for  her  wisdom  and  modesty, 
besides  being  beautiful,  pious,  and  honourable  m  all  thin^i. 
She  had,  as  companions,  two  noble  and  beauteous  raudeni^ 
aud  two  esc^uires.  The  ambassadors  had  at  least  thirty 
horses  in  their  train.  Along  their  route,  they  were  received 
by  the  princes  and  prelates  tibrongh  whose  estates  they  passed, 
with  the  disHnelioii  die  to  their  faah  and  tbot  of  thek  Loid 


0^  «nii«A»v. 


lU 


Happily  «rrif ftd  at  Pratborg,  Ui«j  w«i6  •BtortatMd  widi 
royal  hoapitalityt  and  ft  gfet^  numW  of  llama  war*  oflEarad 
ip  on  tha  moniiog  aftar  Uiair  aoUranoa  to  that  oity. 

Wban  tbaj  opooed  W  Ung  Andra«r  tha  objeat  aC  thalr 
misaioD,  ba  apaemUail  bia  epuocU  lo  dabbarala  an  tba  damaiMi 
of  tbe  Dako  of  Thutfingia. 

Elingsobr  upheld  it  Warmly,  and  in  a  diaoouna  wbiob 
aervet  aa  a  pietve  of  ThnriBgia  at  tbat  period,  he  abowed 
forth  the  richea  and  power  of  Hermann;  ba ennmerated  tba 
twelve  Connta,  who  ware  bi»  vaaaala,  not  to  apeak  of  knigbfi 
and  barona;  ba  praiaed  hia  fertile  and  well-cnitivated  coon- 
try;  be  also  told  of  ha  fine  foreata  and  well-stored  fiah- 
|X)nd8,  and  how  oomfertable  the  people  were,  "drinking 
Btrong  beer,  and  eating  good  white  bread.**  He  llien  enkv 
gised  the  personal  character  of  the  Duke,  and  added,  thai 
the  yonng  L^nia  appeared  to  him  to  posaess  all  the  good 
qualities  that  eonld  be  expected  at  his  age.  Queen  Gertrude 
also  approved  of  the  Teqoest  of  Hermann,  and  Andrew, 
yielding  to  her  influence^  agreed  to  part  with  hia  beloyed 
child.  But  before  he  would  permit  her  to  aet  out,  ba 
wished  to  celebrate  a  feast  in  her  honour,  and  having  a^ 
sembled  all  the  noblea  and  their  ladies,  he  ordered  brilliant  re* 
joicings.  The  games,  dances,  music,  and  the  songs  of  the  min- 
strels, lasted  three  days,  after  which  the  Thuringian  anibassadoia 
took  leave  of  the  king.  The  attendants  brought  with  them  tba 
littlo  Elizabeth,  tbcQ  aj^d  four  years,  and,  covering  her  with  a 
silken  robe  embroidered  with  gold,  laid  her  in  a  cradle  of  mM* 
live  silver,  and  tbns  gave  her  into  the  care  of  the  ThuringianSi 

Hie  king  said  to  the  Lord  de  Yarila — ^  I  confide  to  thy 
knightly  honour  my  sweetest,  consolation.''  The  Q^een,  alao, 
came  weeping  and,  racommeoding  her  child  to  bis^  care.  Tba 
knight  answ^d  tbeoi  tbna — *^I  will  willingly  take  ohargt 
of  her,  and  9^^  alwaya  ba  bar  f^/tiiiak  aarvaot*'    Ha  kepi 


IM 


&IFI    Of   ST.    ILIIABITK, 


I     * 
I'     * 

f 


hfe  word,  as  w«  tball  henwhn  mo.  Before  learing  Pre» 
burg,  the  ambaieadors  reoeiTed  from  the  king  and  ^een 
presents  of  immense  ralne,  tome  for  themselres,  and  some  to 
be  carried  to  Duke  Hermann,  as  the  dower  of  the  princena 
OoDtemporary  narratiTea  enamerate  in  detail  these  presents, 
faying,  that  never  were  seen  in  Thoringia  things  io  precioas 
and  beantifuL 

Hence  we  may  oonclnde,  that  this  marriage  serred  to  in* 
trodaoe  into  Germany  a  new  defelopment  of  the  Inznry  of 
the  East,  which,  at  so  distant  a  period,  mnst  have  been  of 
importance  in  the  history  of  Germanic  art  and  industry. 
Queen  Gertrude  added  to  these  gifts  a  thousand  marlis  of 
silver,  and  promised  that,  if  she  lived,  she  would  double  the 
imn  from  her  privy  purse. 

The  ambassadors  at  last  set  out.  They  had  conie  witli 
two  carriages,  and  returned  with  thirteen,  so  greatly  had 
their  baggage  increased.  King  Andrew  confided  to  them 
thirteen  noble  Hungarian  maidens,  as  companions  to  his 
daughter,  all  of  whom  Duke  Hermann  dowered  and  mar- 
ried in  Thuringia.  The  journey  homeward  was  performed 
without  delay  ;  as  soon  as  Duke  Hermann  and  the  Duchess 
Sophia  received  news  of  their  approach,  and  of  the  success 
of  their  mission,  they  knelt  and  blessed  God  for  having 
listened  to  their  prayers.  Then  they  descended  from  Wart* 
bourg  to  Eisenach,  in  order  to  receive  their  ambassadors, 
whom  God  had  so  well  guided. 

If  we  are  to  believe  one  of  the  official  chroniclers  of  the 
eourt,  the  joy  of  having  received  the  young  princess  almost 
let  their  senses  astray.  The  whole  party  entered  the  Hostel 
of  Hellgref,  where  Elingsohr  had  made  the  prediction,  and 
which  was  then  the  best  in  the  town.  There  the  Landgrave 
took  the  little  Elizabeth  in  his  arms,  and,  pressing  her  to  hii 
bosom,  thanked  God  for  h&ving  granted  her  to  him. 

He  then  returned  to  Wartbourg  to  prepare  for  her  recep 


.a 


115 


tlon,  bnt  the  DucbeM  remained  all  night  with  the  child  The 
next  morning,  she  conducted  her  to  the  castle,  where  the 
Dnke  hnd  assembled  all  his  court,  and  to  which  a  nnmber  of 
the  citizens  of  Eisenach  and  their  wives  were  inrited,  to  set 
the  ehild  that  Qod  and  the  king  of  Hungary  had  sent  them. 

The  princess,  aged  fonr  years,  was  solemnly  affianced  to 
the  Doke  Loais,  who  was  then  elcTen  ;  and,  according  to 
custom,  they  were  laid  side  by  side  ib  one  bed.  Then  there 
wore,  as  at  Presburg,  snmptncns  banquets  and  festivals,  at 
which  poetry,  the  principal  magnificence  of  the  court  of 
Thnrin^'a,  shone  with  its  accustomed  brilliancy. 

Dating  from  this  time,  Elizabeth  never  left  him  who  waa 
to  be  her  husband,  and  whom  she  then  called  her  brother. 
A  touching  and  salutary  custom  existed  in  Catholic  ages  and 
families — to  bring  up  together  those  whose  after  lives  were 
destined  to  be  united  ;  a  blessed  inspiration,  which  mingled  in 
the  mind  of  man  the  pure  name  of  sister  with  the  sacred  name 
of  wife,  80  that  none  of  the  young  heart's  fireshness  was  lost, 
hat  the  fond  and  yarying  emotions  of  brotherhood  served  to 
prepare  for  the  grave  and  arduous  duties  of  marriage.  Thus, 
all  that  was  ardent  and  impetuous  in  the  soul  was  calmed 
down  and  sanctified  ;  thus  the  purest  and  closest  relations  of 
life  were  from  childhodH  joined  in  an  earnest  and  only  love, 
providing  for  after  years  the  reiMmbrsooe  of  the  iweetMl 
and  moat  holy  tMecUom, 


tte 


LIfl  Of  fT.   BLtlABITB« 


CHAPTER  U 


tn  0IAB  Mnrr  baa: 


■oNouBiv  ooD  ni 


I* 


•*Clni|  MM  ftvalt  d*«««  dr«H 

Mnto  TMMaos  !•  DWv  •ImAa^ 

Li  an*  !•  Bol  d'HMifri*. 
Qiunt  •  btMi  ftilra  ooaumtnaa.** 

"  i?tff«6«Hr  if'&t  ^Iftt  J»r*  TM^ 

In  the  bosom  of  the  feniHj  from  which  Providence  thni 
•eparated  the  little  Eliiabeth^  two  cameB  contributed  to  de 
velop  in  her  lotil  those  Tirttet  that  were  recognised  in  her 
even  from  the  cradle.  She  had,  in  the  first  place,  an  illus* 
trioos  example  of  the  union  of  all  Christian  virtues  with 
sovereign  nu^esty,  in  the  person  of  her  maternal  aunt,  Hed* 
wige^  Duchess  of  rolsnd,  who  in  after  years  merited  the 
veneration  of  the  faithful^  and  whose  austere  and  fervent 
piety  contrilmted  even  then  to  the  glory  of  her  family,  and 
waa  A  sabject  of  edification'  which  Eliifttbeth  well  know  how  to 
andentand  and  to  imitate.  But,  besides  the  infinence  of  thfc 
exampiO,  God  permitted  that  unforeseen  misfortune  shooftl 
throw  a  shade  of  sadness  over  her  youth,  and  teach  her  thus 
early  the  frailty  of  earthly  grandeur.  Two  years  after  she 
had  been  brought  from  Hungary  io  Tiiri  ingia,  her  mother, 
Queen  Gertrude,  suffered  a  moe'  <  ;ji  i^ath,  huving  been 
assassinated  by  the  subjects  of  her  husband.  The  cause  of 
her  death  is  uncertain ;  according  to  some,  she  was  immo> 
lated  by  the  sovereign  of  Croatia  and  Dalmatia,  who  wished 
tbir.  to  revenge  the  honour  of  his  wife,  outraged  by  Berch- 
icid,  b.  "f?tir  to  the  queen  ;  according  to  others,  she  sras  the 


or  irtftAftr. 


in 


rfctim  of  •  plot  formed  Agatntt  the  Rfe  of  iMr  hofbtad,  and 
(hat,  in  order  to  gire  him  iime  to  escape,  she  doHTered  he^ 
w)f  «p  to  the  blows  of  th()  conspirators.  Tills  fatal  news  soon 
rpsrhsd  Bliaabeth,  and  an  hiBtorfMur  agree  in  regarding  it  as 
one  of  the  principal  soarces  of  th«  gr»f  r  thooght  and  profound 
pietj  which  were  manif'^fted  in  aft  her  childish  actions.  < 

On  Rliaibeth*S  arriral  In  Thoringia^  tiie  Landgratr  ne- 
terted  to  bo  her  companions,  seren  maidens  01*  the  most  no.  io 
liomes  of  his  dominions,  amongst  whot,  was  hi  own  danghtcf 
Arnes;  all  were  about  the  age  of  th*  young  princess,  and 
.V  ub  brought  up  with  her.  One  of  thes( ,  Quta,  who  was  fi?e 
yours  old,  being  a  year  older  than  Elizabeth,  remained  in  he? 
seryice  until  a  short  time  before  her  death. 

And  when  Ood  called  her  to  himself,  and  when  the  report 
of  her  sanctity,  noised  abroad,  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities,  this  same  Guta,  being  [«nbllcly  intG^ 
rogated,  related  the  recollections  of  her  chiIdho«Kl.  It  is  to 
her  depositions,  carefully  preserved  and  transmitted  to  the 
Holy  See,  that  we  o^e  the  knowledge  of  the  del  lils  we  are 
aboat  to  g^fe  of  the  occupations  of  the  first  ye  its  of  our 
Elizabeth. 

From  this  tender  age  all  her  thoughts  and  feelings  seemed 
to  be  centred  in  the  desire  of  senring  Ood,  and  of  meriting 
Iheayen.  Whenever  au  opportunity  offered,  she  went  to  the 
I  Castle  Chapel,  and  there,  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  Altar,  she 
would  open  before  her  a  large  psalter,  though  as  yet  she 
knew  not  how  to  read ;  then  foldhig  her  little  hands,  and 
raising  Iter  eyes  to  heaven,  she  gave  herself  up  with  wonde^ 
|fal  recollection  to  meditation  and  prayer. 

At  play  with  her  companions,  for  instance,  in  hopping 
ilong,  she  led  so  that  all  were  obliged  to  follow  her  to  the 
|Chf»|iil,  and  wheu  she  found  it  shut,  she  wonld  fervently- 
(Ifis  til*  lock,  door,  and  walls,  out  of  love  Ibr  the  Lord  who 
[resided  wltfaio  it,  concealed  under  the  sacramental  veilL 


118 


Liri    OF    IT.     ILIZABITR, 


In  all  her  sports,  in  whioh  there  were  games  of  chanco 
■he  was  governed  by  the  thought  of  Qod.     She    loped  tcl 
gain  for  Him  ;  for  all  her  winnings  were  distribated  amongst 
poor  girls,  on  whom  she  imposed  the  duty  of  reciting  a  ce^| 
tain  number  of  "Paters^  and  "  AvesJ* 

She  continually  sought  occasions  of  anion  with  God  ;  and  I 
when  any  obstacle  prevented  her  saying  as  many  prayers  or 
making  as  many  genuflexions  as  she  would  wish,  she  would 
say  to  her  little  companions,  "  Let  us  lie  upon  the  ground  to 
measure  which  of  U3  is  the  tallest."  Then  stretching  her- 
self successively  by  the  side  of  each  little  girl,  she  would 
proGt  of  the  moment  to  humble  herself  before  God,  and  to 
repeat  an  "^yf."  When  afterwards  a  wife  and  mother,  she 
used  to  take  a  pleasure  in  relating  these  innocent  wiles  of  her 
childhood.  She  often  conducted  her  friends  to  the  cemetery, 
and  would  say  to  them,  "Remember  that  one  day  we  shall  bo 
nothing  but  dust."  Then  arriving  at  the  charnel  house,  she 
would  continue  thus,  "Behold  the  bones  of  the  dead  ;  these 
people  were  once  living  as  we  now  are,  and  are  dead  as  we 
shall  be.  For  this  reason  we  must  love  God  ;  kneel  and  say 
with  me,  0  Lord,  by  your  cruel  death,  and  by  your  dear| 
Mother  Mary,  deliver  these  poor  souls  from  their  sufferings  ! 
0  Lord,  by  your  five  sacred  wounds,  grant  that  we  may  be  I 
saved."  "  These,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  were  her  dances  and 
her  sports."  The  children  repeated  these  prayers  after  her ; 
and,  soon  dazzled  by  the  ascendancy  which  she  acquired  over 
them,  they  would  relate  that  the  infant  Jesus  often  came  to 
lier,  and  saluting  her  tenderly,  would  play  with  her;  but  she| 
strictly  forbade  them  to  say  such  things. 

After  her  recreation  she  tried  to  learn  as  many  prayers  as 
possible.  All  who  would  speak  to  her  of  God  and  His  holy 
law  became  dear  to  her.  She  assigned  to  herself  a  certain 
number  of  prayers  to  repeat  daily,  and  when  hindered  from 
fulftlliug  this  voluntary  obligation,  and  obliged  by  her  attend- 


OF    BUNOART. 


lit 


intfl  (o  go  to  bed,  sh^  never  failed  to  acquit  liene!f  of  hei 
devotions  whilst  tbey  thought  that  she  slept  Thus,  lika 
David,  she  **  remembered  the  Lord  upon  her  couch.^  She 
already  appreciated  the  value  of  that  pure  modesty,  which  is 
to  be  observed  by  Christian  virgins,  and  always  arranged  her 
veil  so  as  that  the  least  possible  portion  of  her  infantine  fear  ^ 
turcs  could  only  be  seen. 

The  boundless  charity,  which  was  at  a  later  period  iden- 
tified with  her  life,  already  inflamed ,  her  predestined  soaU 
She  distributed  all  the  money  that  she  received,  or  could,  on 
any  pretence,  obtain  from  her  adopted  parents,  amongst  the 
poor.  She  would  go  into  the  offices  and  kitchens  of  the  castle 
to  try  and  gather  remains  of  victuals,  and  these  ahe  used  care- 
fully to  carry  to  starving  creatures. 

This  soon  awakened  against  her  the  displeasure  of  the 
officers  of  the  dncal  honse.  According  as  she  grew  np,  she 
increased  in  virtue  and  in  piety  ;  she  lived  more  to  herself, 
recollected  in  the  presence  of  God,  who  was  graciously 
pleased  henceforth  to  adorn  her  with  His  most  rare  and 
precious  graces. 

One  of  the  customs  existing  at  this  period,  was  that  every 
princess  and  maiden  of  the  highest  rank  should  choose,  by 
lot,  one  from  amongst  the  holy  Apostles  to  be  her  especial 
patron.  Elizabeth,  who  had  previously  chosen  the  Blessed 
Virgin  for  her  patroness  and  especial  advocate,  had  also  a 
veneration,  an  old  manuscript  says,  a  particular  friendship,  for 
St  John  the  Evangelist  which  she  entertained  on  account 
of  the  virginal  purity  of  which  this  holy  Apostle  was  the 
type.  She  began  to  pray  earnestly  to  our  Lord,  that  He 
wou4d  assign  to  her  St.  John  as  her  patron  ;  after  which  she 
humbly  went  with  her  companions  to  the  election.  For  this 
purpose  twelve  tapers,  each  being  inscribed  with  the  name  of 
an  Apostle,  were  laid  npon  the  Altar,  and  each  postnlant  ad* 
fMced  and  took  the  first  that  chance  presented  to  her.    Tht 


S!l 


,l:i 


ISO 


Liri   Of     ftT.    iLIIABlTH, 


taper  wliicli  bore  the  naine  of  Bt.  John  was  taken  up  %j  liH> 
■abcth,  biit  iiot  content  with  tids  coincidence  with  her  wiriiei 
ahe  twice  renewed  the  trial,  and  bad  each  time  the  Bame 
success. 

Believing  herself  reeommeoded  to  the  beloved  Apostle  by 
a  special  manifestation  of  Providence,  she  felt  her  devotion 
towards  him  increase,  and  during  all  her  life  she  faithftdly 
venerated  him  ;  she  never  refused  anything  that  was  asked  of 
her  in  St.  John^s  name,  whetht^r  it  was  to  pardon  an  injury  or 
to  confer  a  benefit.  Placed  under  this  sacred  patronage  the 
pious  child  found  therein  a  new  motive  to  reader  herself  wo^ 
thy  of  Heaven.  She  therefore  redoubled  her  efiforts  to  attain 
all  Christian  virtues,  and  augmented  the  number  of  her  voluii- 
tary  privations. 

She  never  neglected  to  sanctify  the  name  of  the  Lord  by  a 
great  reserve  in  her  words.  On  Sundays  and  festivals  sha 
used  to  lay  aside  some  portion  of  her  jewels,  preferring  to 
honour  God  rather  by  hnmility  of  the  heart  and  exterior, 
thaA  by  splendour  of  dress. 

Outa  tells  us,  that  on  these  occasions  she  woold  not  {ml 
on  gloves  or  laced  ruffles,  antil  after  Mass. 

Every  day  she  sought  opportunities  of  conquering  bet 
■elf-will  in  little  things,  in  order  to  prepare  for  making 
greater  sacrifices.  In  her  games,  when  she  won,  and  thai 
auccess  made  her  quite  joyous,  she  would  suddenly  stop^ 
laying,  '*  Now  tliat  I  have  been  so  fortunate,  I  will  give  ap 
for  the  love  of  God.''  She  loved  dancing,  according  to  tha 
•niversal  custom  of  the  country  wherein  she  was  bom,  and 
of  that  in  which  she  was  reared  ;  but  when  she  had  danced 
sue  figure,  she  would  say,  "  It  is  enough  to  give  one  turn 
for  the  world.  I  will  deprive  myself  of  the  others,  in  honour 
of  Jesus  Christ.'^ 

Meanwhile  the  young  Lonis,  her  betrothed,  was  contin» 
ally  with  her,  and  she  leU  girtat  pleatore  in  being  near  bilk 


St 


dt  miwknr. 


HI 


Hhe  called  him  "Jfy  dear  Brother;^  and  h«  was  wont  to 
address  her  thus  :  "My  dear  friend — my  tweet  Sitter." 

Tbos  passed  the  earlj  days  of  this  young  girl ;  the  Lord 
who  reserved  her  for  so  pure  and  so  brilliant  a  destiny,  had 
counted  the  number  of  hcor  jeafB,  and  willing  soon  to  summon 
her  to  take  her  place  in  heaven,  He  opened  to  her  thus  early 
the  treasury  of  his  grace.  Her  life  was  destined  to  be  too 
short  for  any  of  those  great  iaterior  roTolatiom  which  have 
distinguished  the  lirei  and  eoiiTersiona  of  amam  of  tbe  most 
illustrious  saints.  No  storm  of  the  heart  was  to  darken  the 
celestial  ray  that  lighted  her  from  the  eradle  to  the  tomb  t 

All  was  to  correspond  in  her  Uessed  career.  She  was  not 
the  only  servant  of  God,  who  in  early  life  rendered  testineony 
to  His  mercy  and  power ;  and  certainly  there  is  ftot  for 
Christian  eyes  a  sweeter  mghi,  than  the  dawning  of  those 
great  lights  that  are  destined  to  iUnauiie  1m*? ea  and  earth. 
ft 


. '  , 


;r 


i 


isa 


i 

f 


LIFI    07    ff.    SLIS41iaV«, 


CHAPTER  lit 


■OW  Tm  DEAR  SAINT  BUZABKTB  HAD  TO  SUmCB  FOR 

''BaatM  IbMit  et  Mwiit  mlttoatM  Mmlin  toa.** 

**  T«lait«  atttom  vealaat  earn  aznltattoo*  portaatM  maalpolw 

P9.  ajEZT.  T,  8. 

Elizabeth  had  scarcely  attained  her  ninth  year  when  the 
fiither  of  her  betrothed,  the  Landgra?e  Hermann,  died,  in 
1216.  One  night  he  dreamed  that  skeletons  of  criminals 
exposed  at  the  place  of  execution  outside  the  gates  of  Eisenach, 
were  suddenly  transformed  into  white-robed  virgins ;  that  these 
virgins  came  towards  his  bed,  headed  by  our  Lady  and  St 
Catherine,  towards  whom  he  felt  a  particular  devotion,  and 
that  they  addressed  him  thus :  "  Thou  must  upon  this  spot 
build  us  a  house,  thou  art  to  place  therein  consecrated  virgins, 
and  then,  after  a  little  while,  we  shall  take  thee  to  us.''  The 
Duke  faithfully  executed  this  command.  He  founded  in  the 
place  indicated  to  him  a  convent  of  nuns  under  the  invocation 
of  St.  Catherine,  and  installed  there  as  first  abbess  a  young 
widow,  Imagina,  Duchess  of  Brabant,  and  designed  this 
lanctuary  for  his  own  burial  place,  and  that  of  his  descendants. 
After  this  he  died,  and  was  interred  as  he  had  ordered. 

The  young  Louis,  then  scarcely  sixteen  years  old,  was  hla 
heir,  being  his  eldest  son  ;  the  two  younger  brothers,  Henry 
Raspon  and  Conrad,  each  received  an  appanage,  with  the 
title  of  Count,  and  shared  in  the  government  of  part  of  the 
dominions  of  the  Landgrave,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
house  of  Thuringia. 

The  death  of  Hermann  was  a  misfortune  to  Elizabeth. 
ThaX  illustrioiu  and  pions  prince  had  continued  to  love  her 


OF  BuvoAmr. 


12S 


on  accoont  of  her  precocious  piety.  He  had  always  treated 
li'T  as  his  own  daughter,  and  daring  bis  life  no  one  dared  to 
taterfere  in  her  religions  practices. 

But  after  his  death  it  was  no  longer  so.  Though  LouIa, 
whom  she  looked  upon  as  her  betrothed  and  her  lord,  bad 
occome  sovereign  of  the  country,  his  extreme  yontli  made 
tiim  in  some  measure  dependent  on  his  mother,  the  Duchess 
Bophia,  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Otto  de  Wittlesbach,  Duke 
of  Bavaria.  This  princess  saw  with  displeasure  Elizabeth's 
great  devotion,  and  showed  her  discontent  at  it.  The  younjf 
Agnes,  sister  of  Louis,  who  was  brought  up  with  her  futuro 
sister-in-law,  and  whose  dazzling  beanty  had  rendered  he? 
more  liable  to  be  seduced  by  the  vanities  of  the  world, 
used  to  reproach  her  incessantly  on  her  humble  and  retiring 
habits.  She  was  wont  to  tell  her  plainly  that  she  was  only 
tit  to  be  a  waiting-maid  or  a  servant.  The  other  young 
girls  of  the  court,  companions  to  the  two  princesses,  seeing 
that  every  day  Elizabeth  took  less  share  in  their  games, 
dances,  and  gay  and  frivolous  life,  used  to  repeat  what  they 
heard  Agnes  say,  and  would  openly  mock  her.  Even  tk3 
most  influential  officers  of  the  ducal  court,  forgetful  of  the 
respect  due  to  her  royal  birth,  her  sex,  and  extreme  youtb, 
blushed  not  to  pursue  her  with  derision  and  public  insults. 
AH  agreed  in  saying  that  in  nothing  did  she  resemble  a 
princess. 

Indeed  Elizabeth  showed  a  kind  of  distaste  for  the  society 
of  the  young  countesses  and  noble  ladies  who  bad  been 
appointed  as  her  companix>ns.  She  preferred  that  of  the 
humble  daughters  of  some  of  the  citizens  of  Eisenach,  and 
even  that  of  the  girls  in  her  service.  Above  all,  she  loved  t6 
surround  herself  with  the  children  of  the  women  among  whom 
she  distributed  her  alms. 

The  insults  of  which  she  was  the  object,  y^rved  to  render 
this  society  more  sweet  and  dear  to  her.    i^t^  neycr  allowed 


i:  i 


m 


LIFE    O^W   CT.    »|.II4B1TB, 


pride,  or  woonded  selMoTe,  or  6f«a  impatience,  Co  dwell  Ii 
her  heart. 

Til  is  first  experience  of  the  iDJostice  of  men,  and  of  tlie 
miseries  of  the  world,  became^  as  it  were,  a  new  linlc  uniting 
her  to  Qod.  She  gathered  therefrom  new  strength  to  loTe 
and  serve  Him. 

"  As  the  lily  among  thorns,''  sajs  one  of  her  historian^ 
"  the  itmocent  Elizabeth  budded  and  bloomed  in  the  midst  of 
bitterness,  and  spread  all  around  ner  the  sweet  and  fragrant 
perfume  of  patience  and  humilitjr.'' 

She  gave  at  this  time  an  example  of  that  humility,  whidi 
all  the  narrators  of  her  life  ha^e  carefully  preserved.  It  was 
the  feast  of  the  Assumption,  a  day  on  which  there  were  great 
indulgences  in  the  churches  consecrated  to  the  Blessed  Vir 
gin,  and  on  which  it  was  customary  with  the  people  to  make 
an  offering  of  the  fruits  and  crops  of  the  year.  The  Duchess 
Sophia  said  to  Agnes  and  Elizabeth,  "  Let  us  go  down  to 
Eisenach  to  the  church  of  our  dear  Lady,  to  hear  the  High 
Mass  of  the  Teutonic  knights,  who  honour  her  specially; 
perhaps  we  may  also  hear  a  sermon  in  her  praise.  Put  on 
your  richest  robes  and  golden  crowns.^'  The  young  priii<> 
cesses,  being  adorned  as  she  had  ordered,  descended  with 
her  to  the  eity,  and  entering  the  church,  knelt  on  a  faldstool 
before  the  great  crucifix.  At  the  sight  of  the  image  of  the 
dying  Saviour,  Elizabeth  took  off  her  crown,  and  laying  it  on 
a  bench,  prostrated  herself,  without  other  ornament  on  her 
head  than  her  hair.  The  duchess  seeing  her  thus,  said  rudely 
to  her,  "  What  ails  you.  Lady  Elizabeth,  what  new  whim  is 
this,  do  you  wish  that  every  one  should  laugh  at  you  ?  Young 
ladies  should  hold  themselves  erect,  and  not  throw  themselves 
upon  the  ground  like  fools  or  old  women.  Can  you  not  do 
as  we  dcT,  instead  of  behaving  like  an  ill-reared  ciiild  ?  Is 
your  crown  too  heavy  f  Why  do  you  remain  thus  stooped 
like  a  peasant  T     Elisabeth  fisiqg,  humbly  answi^ved  \m 


OV    BVKAARt* 


lift 


Dother-in-law,  "  Door  ladjr,  do  not  blAme  me ;  behold  befort 
my  eyes  mj  God  and  mj  King,  the  sweet  and  merdfhl  Jeana, 
crowned  with  ■h«rp  thorns,  and  can  I,  who  am  bat  a  rile 
creature,  remain  before  him  wearing  pearls,  gold,  and  jewels? 
My  coronet  would  be  a  mockery  of  His  thorny  wreath!" 
And  she  began  to  weep  bitterly,  for  ahready  the  lofe  of 
Christ  had'  woniided  her  tender  heart.  She  tlien  knelt 
humbly  as  before,  leaving  Sophia  and  Agnes  to  speak  mneb 
UK  they  pleased,  and  continued  to  pray  with  such  fervour 
that,  having  placed  a  fold  of  her  mantle  before  her  eyes,  it 
became  saturated  with  her  tears.  The  other  two  princesses, 
in  order  to  avoid  a  contrast  so  disadvantageous  to  them 
ill  the  eyes  of  the  people,  were  obliged  to  imitate  her,  and 
to  draw  their  veils  over  their  faces,  "  which  it  would  havo 
been  much  more  pleafiing  to  them  not  to  do/^  adds  the  chro* 
nicler. 

Such  traits  served  but  to  iacreast  the  hatred  with  which 
profaue  souls  were  inflamed  against  her.  According  as  sha 
grew  up  this  feeling  seemed  to  be  propagated  more  and  more, 
aiul  when  she  had  attained  a  marriageable  age,  there  was  a 
general  explosion  of  persecutions  and  insults  against  her, 
throoghout  the  whole  court  of  Thuringia.  The  relatives  of 
the  Landgrave,  his  oouncillors  and  principal  vassals,  all  do- 
clured  themselves  averse  to  such  an  union.  They  clamoured 
loudly  and  said  that  she  should  be  seat  back  to  her  father, 
>uid  restore  her  troth-plight.  That  such  a  BtguiM  was  noib 
fit  for  their  prince— that  he  should  have  a  spouse,  noble,  rich. 
Well-connected,  and  of  truly  ro}al  manners— that  he  would 
do  much  better  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  neighbouring 
prince  who  could  give  him  help  in  his  need.  Whereas  Eliza- 
)jL  til's  father  lived  too  far  away  fcT  that,  or  even  to  revengt 
llie  insults  ofl^ed  to  his  daqghter  if  he  felt  them,  and  further- 
more that  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  akeady,  and  had 
iot  sent  Ui^  ^qwMlider  of  the  iowry  promised  by  ber  mothif 


[:i 


ia« 


LIFB    Of    ST.    ■LIIABITR, 


The  intimate  companioni  of  the  young  duke  seized  every  9/ 
portaiiity  of  iudaciag  him  to  gire  ap  Eiisabetb,  and  to  send 
her  back  to  Hangary,  becaoae  she  was  too  timid  and  reserved. 
The  Dachess-mother  used  every  effort  to  oblige  Eiizabctli  tc 
take  the  veil  in  some  convent.  Agnes  assailed  her  with 
contempt  and  insult — she  incessantly  told  her  that  she  had 
mistaken  her  vocation  in  not  becoming  a  servant.  "My 
Lady  Elizabeth,"  said  she  to  her  one  day,  "  if  you  imagine 
that  our  lord,  my  brother,  virill  marry  you,  you  mistake  very 
much  ;  or  if  he  doea.  you  must  become  quite  a  dififerent  per- 
son from  what  you  wow  are.''  Such  was  the  treatment  which 
she  had  to  endure  every  day — she  deeply  felt  the  unbappioess 
oT  her  position — there  was  she,  still  a  child  and  already  with- 
«M<t  help,  without  friends,  without  human  consolation,  in  a 
manner  exiled  from  her  country,  deprived  of  paternal  protec- 
tion, in  the  midst  of  a  strange  court,  exposed  to  the  insults 
and  persecutions  of  those  who  were  Qod's  enemies  and  hers. 
Vet  this  made  her  the  better  recognise  that  her  life  should  be 
but  a  pilgrimage  in  this  uncertain  world.  She  had  recourse  to 
God,  and  in  silence  confided  to  Him  her  griefs  and  opened  to 
Him  her  heart.  She  sought  to  unite  her  will  to  that  of  her 
Heavenly  Father,  and  begged  of  Him  to  accomplish  His 
divine  will  in  her  by  any  means  that  ho  thought  fit. 

Then  when  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  peace  and  resignation 
had  been  restored  to  her  soul,  she  would  cheerfully  rejoin  her 
maidens,  and  the  poor  girls  whom  she  had  chosen  as  her 
companions ;  and  this  conduct  redoubled  against  her  the 
mockeries  and  invectives  of  the  two  princesses  and  the  cour- 
tiers. 

Here  one  of  her  biographers  interrupts  his  recital  to 
address  to  her  this  prayer  : 

"  O  most  dear  St.  Elizabeth,  I  honour  thy  Tirtuous  yontl 
and  weep  over  the  contempt  and  persecution  thou  didst  suffer. 
Why  have  I  not  passed  my  early  years  as  holily  as  tbo«  didst  t 


his  recital  to 


Of    BUNOART, 


191 


t  hy  did  not  I,  like  thee,  suffer  patiently  all  contradictions  f 
'  rteseecb  thee,  by  thy  blessed  childhood,  to  atone  for  my  lo- 
r.  itiiic  malice,  and,  by  thy  heioic  patience,  to  obt"')  for 
pi'rUon  of  my  wilful  auger  tiid  of  ill  nj  CMUti." 


138 


CHArTER  IT. 


■OW  TBI  TOimO  LOUIS  WAS  FAimrUL  TO  Tm  SIAA 
BLIZABETO,    AND   HOW   HB   MARRIED   BKR. 


•latara 


muIUra  adolOTrantto  txm.    *    .    . 
Jugltor.**— />ro«.  t.  M,  ML 


4ns  Mttlmt 


The  jnst  God  who  had  received  the  prayers  and  tears  of 
his  child,  Elizabeth,  did  not  delay  to  reward  her  submission 
and  patience. 

Alone  in  the  midst  of  his  court,  the  yoang  Duke  Louis 
was  not  prejudiced  against  her,  and,  deceiving  the  hopes  and 
wishes  of  all,  he  remained  faithful  to  her  who  from  his  child- 
hood he  had  regarded  as  his  bride.  His  love  for  her  iucreaoed 
every  day,  and  though,  probably  out  of  regard  for  his  mother, 
he  did  not  think  proper  to  manif  st  it  publicly,  nevertheless, 
this  pare  and  holy  affectioii  was  de*  ply  planted  in  his  heart. 

On  this  point  he  was  as  deaf  tc  the  exhortations  and  sar- 
casms of  his  mother,  as  to  the  counsels  of  his  false  friends  niA 
the  voice  of  his  passions.  He  regarded  with  joy  and  admira- 
tion what  attracted  to  Elizabeth  the  insults  of  the  world,— 
her  extreme  modesty,  the  absence  of  all  pomp  in  her  dress, 
her  piety,  charity, — and  he  thought  ho^/  happy  he  would  feel 
in  learning  from  her  these  virtues.  Hi  chaplain,  Berchtold, 
who  has  written  his  life,  doubted  not  but  that  God,  by  a 
secret  inspiration,  turned  his  heart  towards  the  royal  exile. 
For  it  was  not  only  as  the  woman  who  was  to  be  his  wife, 
with  a  human  or  conjugal  love,  that  he  regarded  her,  but  ua 
a  sister  in  tfesus  Christ,  with  an  affect!  n  that  seemed  to  ha^e 
been  instilled  into  his  heart  by  the  baud  of  the  Most  High. 

The  more  the  wicked  surroonded  him  with  perfidious  cou» 


OV    UVMQktLti 


II 


lolfl,  the  more  did  he  feel  his  soal  penetrated  with  ^ ielrt^ 
aiiil  tenderncM  for  this  iuooccnt  struiiger;  according  us  ht 
Raw  her  hated  by  others  on  account  of  iier  ?irtoc8,  the  greaUT 
iK>(e8.sit7  did  he  feel  for  loving  and  defending  iicr.  Loaia 
proiited  of  every  opportunity,  when,  witliont  offending  hla 
mother,  he  could  go  secretly  to  console  Elizabeth  in  her  m<^ 
inriits  of  sadness.  In  this  solitude,  without  ^thcr  witness 
thai;  Qod,  who  had  already  blessed  their  ho!y  nnion,  they 
8|)oke  of  their  secret  and  mutual  love,  and  the  prince  sought 
by  tender  and  encouraging  words  to  heal  the  wounds  which 
otlicrs  infllcied  on  this  young  soul.  Thus  she  experienced 
from  these  meetings  unspeakable  consolatioa.  Whenever 
Louis  went  on  distant  hunting  parties,  or  when  he  passed 
through  trading  cities,  he  used  to  purchase  some  article  that 
Appeared  to  him  rare  and  precious,  to  present  to  his  betrothed. 
Never  did  he  return  empty-handed  ;  he  used  to  bring  either  a 
rosary  of  coral,  a  little  crucifix,  a  pious  picture,  or  a  knife,  a 
purse,  gloves,  brooches,  golden  chains,  or  pins,  or  something 
that  he  knew  she  had  not  before.  At  his  return  she  used 
joyously  to  salute  him ;  he  would  tenderly  embrace  her,  and 
present  i;er  with  whatever  he  had  brought,  as  a  love-gift, 
and  a  sign  that  be  had  thought  of  her  during  his  absence. 

On  one  occasion,  when  the  Duke  was  accompanied  to  the 
chase  by  several  strange  lords,  who  did  not  leave  him  until 
his  return,  he  omitted  to  bring  the  accustomed  present  to 
Elizabeth.  The  princess,  rendered  distrustful  by  persecution 
and  injustice,  felt  this  forgetfulness  deeply  ;  it  was  remarked 
by  her  enemies  with  joy,  and  tliey  boasted  of  it  as  a  symptom 
of  a  change  in  Louis's  feelings.  Having  met  Lord  Gaultier 
•le  Varila,  the  great  cup-bearer,  who  had  bronght  her  from 
Hungary,  to  whose  care  her  father  had  specially  confided 
her,  and  who  fought  for  her,  to  the  best  of  his  power,  against 
the  intrigues  of  the  other  courtiers,  Elizabeth  confided  her 
grief  to  this  old  friend     The  good  knight  sympathised  in  liti 


r 


i\ 


ISO 


tin    OF    IT.    ILTIABITH, 


afllictioii,  on«l  proroiiicd  to  njpotk  of  it  to  his  lord.  He  ioos 
had  an  ojtporiunity,  for  Louia  took  liim  on  a  hantin)^  P<^rtf 
in  the  noigbt)ourhood  of  Wartbourf^.  As  they  rfA'lined  to- 
gether on  tho  f^raHfl  in  a  certain  wood,  whence  cun  iw  aeen 
ill  the  foreground  Inacllierg,  the  hi)?heat  mountain  of  Tiiuriuf^iii, 
I<ord  Ganltlcr  Raid  to  him,  "  Will  you  be  pieaaed,  uiy  Lonl, 
to  answer  a  question  1  am  going  to  put  to  yon  1"  Tlie  good 
prince  replied,  "  Spealc  confidently,  nnd  I  will  tell  thee  nl! 
thou  wouldst  know.**  "Then,"  said  the  knight,  "what  arc 
yon  going  to  do  with  my  lady  Elizabeth,  whom  I  brought  to 
you.  Will  you  take  her  for  your  wife,  or  will  you  break  your 
troth-plight  and  send  her  back  to  her  father  ?**  Louis  arose 
mimediately,  and,  stretching  fortli  his  hand  towanis  InselberL', 
he  said,  "  Dost  thou  see  that  mountain  before  us  ?  Well!  if 
it  were  of  pure  gold,  from  its  base  to  its  sninmit,  and  that  nil 
bhould  be  giyen  to  me  on  the  condition  of  sending  away  my 
Elizabeth,  I  would  never  do  it.  Let  them  think  or  say  of  her 
what  they  please  ;  I  say  this — that  I  love  her,  and  love  | 
i;othing  better  in  this  world  :  I  will  hare  my  Elizabeth  ;  she 
is  dearer  to  me  for  her  virtue  and  piety  than  all  the  kingdoms 
and  riches  of  the  earth.**  "I  beg  of  you,  my  lord,**  suit) 
Gaultier,  "to  let  me  repeat  to  her  these  words.'*  "Tell 
them  to  her,"  said  Louis,  "  and  tell  her  also  that  I  will  nevor 
listen  to  those  who  counsel  me  against  her  ;  and  give  her  this 
as  a  new  pledge  of  my  faith** — so  saying,  he  put  his  hand  into  | 
his  alms-purse,  and  took  from  it  a  little  double-cased  mirror, 
hct  in  silver,  within  which  was  a  picture  of  oar  crucified  I 
Lord.  The  knight  hastened  to  Elizabeth,  told  her  wliatj 
had  happened,  and  gave  her  the  mirror.  She  smiled  witli 
great  joy,  and  thanked  Lord  Gaultier  for  having  thus  aetcd 
towards  her  us  a  father  and  friend  ;  then,  opening  the  mirror  I 
and  seeing  the  picture  of  our  Lord,  she  fervently  kissed  it| 
and  pressed  it  to  her  heart. 

But  the  time  wag  soon  to  come,  when  Louis  could  keep 


or  HUMuiiAr. 


131 


ais  coald  keep 


riii  word  m  ft  Christian  and  a  priiuw,  and  when  Elizabuth 
was  to  be  rewarded  for  her  patieiicr,  nnd  <*our'ol«ii  ftir  hun 
trialM.  ill  1218,  on  iita  feast  of  St.  Kiliau,  ttu>  Duke  havir«f( 
ai coinitlifilied  hU  eighteenth  year,  wan,  with  «itvcral  youn^ 
rortis,  nniied  as  a  koi^ht,  in  the  Church  of  Rt.  Qeor^  at 
Ki<i'iia<  II ;  the  Bitihop  of  Nuiiinburg  come  there  to  bleia 
thoir  swords. 

The  fullowinp:  year  was  partly  oocupiod  in  sastaininf^  a 
IV  ar  Against  Sigefrid,  Arclibishop  of  Mayence,  who,  on 
Airoiiut  of  certain  disputes  with  llcrinann,  had  excomniani* 
lated  bis  son  ;  the  latter,  having  boldly  entered  into  Hesse, 
uiul  there  ravaged  the  possessions  of  the  prelate  and  his 
friends,  obliged  him  to  sue  for  peace.  A  conference  was 
litid  at  Fulda,  on  the  feast  of  St.  Boniface,  in  the  year 
1-219  ;  the  Landgrave  was  formally  absolved,  and  a  perfect 
reconciliation  took  place. 

Oil  his  return  from  this  first  campaign,  Lonis  proclaimed 
his  intention  to  marry  his  betrothed,  and  at  the  same  time 
iiiipuse'd  silence  on  aH  who  were  inclined  to  give  insulting  or 
|)ti  verse  counsel  against  her. 

No  one  dared  to  combat  so  decided  a  will  ;  the  cunning  of 
men  was  henceforth  powerless  in  striving  any  longer  to  sepa- 
rate two  souls  that  Qod  in  his  eternal  councils  had  united. 

"  Admire,"  says  their  historian,  "  how  this  happy  young 
man  and  chaste  husband,  when  about  to  marry,  remaineu 
di  af  to  impious  advice,  and  a  stranger  to  the  thirst  for  gold, 
knowing  that  a  prudent  wife  is  the  good  gift  promised  by  the  • 
Lord  to  the  man  who  lives  worthily  in  this  world.'' 

It  was  in  1220,  that  the  marriage  was  celebrated  with 
f^reat  pomp  at  the  castle  of  Wartbourg.  The  Duke  invited 
to  it  all  his  counts  of  Hesse  and  Thuringia,  and  a  vast  num- 
ber of  knights  and  squires.  All  the  guests  were  lodged  at 
his  expense  in  the  town  of  Eisenach.  By  common  consent, 
the  knights  resigned  the  honour  of  conducting  the  bridt 


ff 


1^ 


Liri    OF    8T.    ILXZABITB, 


to  the  Charch  to  Count  Meinhard  de  Mnhlberg,  and  Lord 
Guulticr  de  Yarila,  who  had  soaght  her  nine  years  before  in 
Uungary,  and  who  now,  as  it  were,  placed  the  seal  on  tho 
result  of  tlieir  embassy.  Elizabeth  was  also  accompanied  by 
si  I  the  stately  dames  and  gentle  maidens  of  the  country.  The 
chroniclers  do  not  speak  of  the  sentiments  with  which  the 
nobles  saw  the  triumph  of  her  who  had  been  for  so  long  a 
time  an  ol*ject  of  their  disdain  and  persecution.  But  they 
boast  of  the  harmonious  music  of  the  high  mass,  the  luxury 
of  the  banquets,  the  joyousness  of  the  dunces,  and  the  splen- 
dour of  the  tournament,  which  was  held  for  three  days,  and 
ftt  which  several  young  knights  distinguished  themselves. 
After  these  three  festival  days,  the  nobles  and  their  wives 
Buccessively  returned  to  their  castles,  and  the  habitual  order 
reigned  again  throughout  the  vast  manor  of  Wartbourg. 

The  young  spouses  belonged  henceforth  to  each  other. 
Louis  was  twenty  years  old — Elizabeth  but  thirteen  ;  both 
even  more  youthful  in  heart  than  in  age — both  united  more 
by  spirit  and  faith  than  by  human  affection.  We  are  told 
that  they  loved  each  other  in  God  with  an  inconceivable 
love,  and  for  this  reason  the  holy  angels  dwelt  coutinoally 
with  them. 


OV    BUVOAKT. 


18S 


CHAPTER  y. 


:  ^^ 


■OW  TUB  DUKE  hOmSy   HCSBAND   OF  THE  DEAR  SAIKT  BLIZADETB, 
WAS   AGREEABLE   TO   GOD   AND   MAN. 

**  Bnt  lit  lUe  Blmplez  et  rectoa,  ae  ttmem  Deam  et  reoedens  •  malo.'* 

Jobi.1, 

The  husband  whom  God  in  his  mercy  had  destined  for  hit 
pious  sei'vant,  and  whom  she  regarded  with  a  tenderness  at 
once  so  deep  and  so  reserved,  was  assuredly  worthy  of  her, 
and  of  her  love.  All  the  historians  of  Thuringia  and  of 
our  saint  concur  in  describing  him  in  the  most  attractive 
manner.  With  the  exception  of  his  glorious  namesake,  Saint 
Louis  of  France,  the  annals  of  his  times  do  not  tell  us  of  any 
prince  who,  though  so  young,  possessed  in  so  high  a  degree 
the  virtues  of  a  Christian  and  of  a  sovereign. 

The  nobility  and  purity  of  his  soul  were  manifested  in  his 
[exterior.  His  manly  beauty  was  celebrated  by  his  contem- 
I  poraries.  All  boast  of  the  perfect  proportion  of  his  figure,  the 
freshness  of  his  complexion,  his  long  fair  hair,  and  the  serene, 
benevolent  expression  of  his  countenance.  Many  imagined 
they  saw  in  him  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  portrait  which 
tradition  has  preserved  of  the  Son  of  God  made  man.  The 
charm  of  his  smile  was  irresistible.  His  deportment  was  noble 
and  dignified — ^the  tone  of  his  voice  extremely  sweet.  No  one 
could  see  without  loving  him. 

What  particularly  distinguished  him  from  his  earliest 
lyoars,  was,  an  unstained  purity  of  soul  and  body.  He  was 
las  modest  and  bashful  as  a  young  girl ;  it  was  easy  to  make 
|hin\  blush,  and  he  observed  in  his  conversation  the  greateU 
IreserifQ. 


1^* 
m 


134 


tirs    07    8T.    SLIZABETB, 


It  was  not  only  in  his  first  innocent  years  that  he  prized 
this  treasure  of  purity  ;  it  was  not  with  him  the  result  of  i 
youth  preserved  from  danger  ;  nor  did  it  arise  from  passing  j 
emotions  or  resolutions,  sincere  when  formed,  but  destined  to 
vanish  at  the  first  assault  of  the  senses  ;  but  it  was  a  firm  I 
and  deep-rooted  will,  which  he  made  the  rule  of  his  whole  j 
life  ;  it  was  an  inflexible  resistance  to  the  most  frequent  and  { 
dangerous  temptations. 

Independent  of  control  at  a  very  early  age,  master  at  I 
sixteen  of  one  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful  principalities  | 
of  Germany,  surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of 
that  eventful  period,  and,  above  all,  by  perfidious  counsellors! 
and  flatterers,  eager  to  see  his  yirtne  destroyed,  he  never 
yielded  ;  never  even  did  the  shadow  of  sin  tarnish  the  fidelity 
that  he  had  promised  to  God,  to  himself,  and  to  her  whom  be 
loved  in  God.     It  will  be  permitted  to  us  to  cite  here  two 
anecdotes  which  contemporary  writers  have  related  in  detail, 
and  which  seem  to  us  to  be  of  a  nature  to  edify  devout  | 
souls. 

A  short  time  after  the  death  of  his  father,  Louis  went  I 
with  his  mother,  the  duchess  Sophia,  to  the  castle  of  Ebers- 
berg.  A  certain  lord  wished  to  put  his  innocence  to  tlie 
proof,  and  having  found  in  the  neighbouring  village  of  Aner- 
bach  a  young  girl  of  remarkable  beauty,  he  had  her  brought 
to  the  castle,  and  even  to  the  chamber  of  the  prince.  For 
this  it  was  necessary  to  cross  the  courtyard,  where  at  the 
moment  the  little  Elizabeth  was  playing  with  her  companions. 
Seeing  this  stranger  being  led  to  her  betrothed,  she  began  to 
weep,  and,  when  iked  the  cause  of  her  tears,  she  replieilJ 
"  Because  they  wish  to  take  my  brother's  precious  soul  and) 
destroy  it." 

Meanwhile  the  young  duke  Louis  lay  upon  his  bed,  for  itl 
#as  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  when  he  heard  a  kaxk  atl 
his  door  j  he  leaped  up,  and  went,  barefooted  at  ho  was,  til 


CF    BUNOART. 


185 


ope:  it.  The  young  girl  entered  with  the  knight,  and  after 
thev  were  seated,  Louis  said  to  her, 

"  Maiden,  why  come  you  here  V* 

"  T  know  not,  my  lord,"  she  replied. 

"  Then,"  said  the  knight,  "  I  brought  her  to  yon  that  yoo 
might  do  with  her  what  you  please." 

At  these  words  the  pious  and  prudent  prince  called  one  of 
Ills  chamberlains,  and  desired  him  to  bring  him  three  marks 
of  pnre  silver.  When  he  had  received  them,  he  gmve  thera 
to  the  girl,  and  said,  "  Lower  your  veil,  fair  maiden,  and  take 
this  small  present  as  a  blessing,  that  yon  may  return  with  joy 
to  your  family."  Tlien  taking  the  unworthy  knight  aside,  he 
ordered  him  to  restore  the  girl  to  her  relatives  free  from  all 
stain.  "  If  the  least  harm  happen  to  her,"  said  he,  "  I 
promise  thee  that  thou  shalt  be  hanged."  The  i.Rrrator  says 
that  he  conceals  the  name  of  this  false  knight  to  avoid  giving 
scandal,  and  adds,  "  Elizabeth,  seeing  that  the  stranger  de- 
i  parted  so  soon,  rejoiced  at  it,  and  thanked  God." 

Another  time,  as  he  looked  from  a  window  at  Eisenach  on 

la  square  where  the  people  were  dancing,  an  attendant  pointed 

out  to  him  the  wife  of  one  of  the  citizens  who  was  remark* 

nl)le  for  her  beauty  and  grace  ;  he  added,  that  if  she  pleased 

the  prince,  he  would  take  care  that  she  should  be  made 

Agreeable  to  his  wishes.    The  prince,  quite  irritated,  turned 

towards  him,  saying,  "Be  silent.     If  ever  again  thou  darest 

Ito  sully  my  ears  by  such  language,  I  will  drive  thee  from  my 

Irourt.     How  darest  thou  propose  to  me  to  become  an  accom- 

i>1ice  in  a  crime  which  I  may  be  called  upon  to  judge  and 

)unish  every  day."    So  rare  and  courageous  a  virtue  could 

}iave  for  its  foundation  only  an  active  and  practical  faith  in 

ill  the  duties  imposed  by  the  Church. 

Every  day  the  holy  mysteries  were  celebrated  in  his  pres- 
ence, and  he  assisted  at  them  with  exemplary  devotion.  Tie 
tis  a  zealous  defender  of  the  rights  of  the  Church  and  ths 


ri 
■  ■ 

■    ■ 


1 


130 


Liri    OF    8T.    XLIZABSTfl, 


'     f 


monasteries,  but  he  well  knew  how  to  distinguish  between 
these  rights  and  the  personal  interests  of  some  prelates,  aa 
we  have  seen  by  his  war  against  the  Archbishop  of  Mayence. 
But  when  the  brutal  injustice  and  avidity  of  some  '^f  his  lay 
vassals  troubled  the  peaceful  and  benevolent  lives  of  tlie 
ministers  of  the  Lord,  he  mounted  horse,  and  went  with 
lance  in  hand  to  fight  for  the  cause  of  God  and  the  poor 
people. 

The  society  iu  which  he  took  most  pleasure  was  that  of 
religions  men,  and  the  usual  termination  of  his  rides  in  the 
time  of  peace  was  the  Benedictine  Abbey  of  Keinhartsbrunn, 
where  he  had  chosen  his  burial  place.  His  first  visit  on 
arriving  there  was  to  the  guest-house  for  the  poor  and 
pilgrims,  which  was  an  essential  part  of  every  monastery. 
He  tried  to  console  the  sick  and  infirm  by  his  presence  and 
gentle  words,  and  always  left  them,  as  alms,  part  of  his  rich 
costume,  or  some  other  present.  When  returned  to  his  castle, 
he  endeavoured  to  endure  some  of  the  privations  of  which  he 
saw  the  example  in  the  religious  life.  Through  a  spirit  of 
penance  he  never  eat  salted  or  spiced  meats-  -this  contrasted 
strongly  with  the  existing  customs  of  the  German  princes- 
be  never  drank  beer,  and  used  wine  only  when  he  was  ill. 
This  simple  and  constant  fidelity  to  the  most  rigorous  duties 
of  a  Christian  life  served  to  exhibit  more  brilliantly  the 
qualities  of  a  true  knight,  and  of  a  wise  and  amiable 
prince. 

No  sovereign  of  bis  time  surpassed  him  in  courage,  nor 
•▼en  in  physical  strength  and  agility  iu  the  exercises  of  the 
body.  He  displayed  this  couiage  on  an  occasion  which  the! 
historians  have  carefully  commemorated.  The  emperor  made 
bim  a  present  of  a  lion,  and  one  morning  the  duke,  lightly 
clad,  and  entirely  without  armour,  was  walking  in  the  court* 
vard ;  he  saw  the  lion,  who  had  escaped  from  his  den,  running 
lowtuxls  him  roaring.    Without  being  at  all  f  ightenad,  hi 


07    HUNOART. 


1J81 


ftood  firmly,  clenched  his  hands,  and  menaced  him  with  his 
voice,  trusting  in  God.  The  lion  came  immediately  waging 
hi3  tail,  and. lay  at  his  feet.  A  sentinel  who  was  on  the 
rAmpirts,  attracted  by  the  roaring  of  the  lion,  perceived  the 
danper  of  his  master,  and  called  for  help.  The  lion  allowed 
liimself  to  be  chained  without  any  resistance,  and  many 
porsons  saw  in  this  power  exercised  over  ferocious  animals  an 
( vidciit  pledge  of  celestial  favour,  merited  by  the  piety  of  the 
)>riiice,  and  the  sanctity  of  the  young  Elizabeth.  To  this 
courage,  of  which,  in  the  continuation  erf  this  history,  we  will 
find  many  other  proofs,  he  joined  in  a  high  degree  that  noble 
conit<»sy  which  St.  Francis  of  Assisium,  his  snblime  contem 
porary,  named  "The  Sister  of  Charity. ^^  He  bore  towards 
hll  women  a  respect  full  of  modesty.  He  was  to  every  one, 
and  particularly  to  his  inferiors,  unchangeably  benevolent 
and  affable.  He  loved  to  give  pleasure  to  others,  end  never 
repulsed  any  one  by  pride  or  coldness. 

A  sweet  and  frank  gaiety,  an  amiable  familiarity,  marked 
all  his  domestic  life.  His  knights  and  esquires  praised  his 
great  generosity,  the  counts  and  lords  who  came  to  his  court 
were  treated  with  the  highest  respect,  and  with  all  the  honours 
due  to  their  rank. 

To  these  chivalrous  virtues  he  added  all  those  of  a  Chris* 
tiun  sovereign.  The  only  vehement  passion  that  all  his 
historians  remark  in  him  was  that  for  justice.  He  loved  it 
with  intense  devotion  ;  and  this  love  gave  him  strength  snffi 
cicnt  to  punish  the  violators  of  the  laws.  He  banished  from 
his  court,  and  oeprived  of  their  employments,  all  those  who 
were  haughty  to  the  poor,  as  well  as  persons  who  allowed 
themselvco  to  be  carried  into  committing  a^ts  of  violence,  and 
tiiose  who  brought  him  false  and  malicious  tales.  Blasphemers 
and  men  who  blushed  not  to  speak  impnrc  words,  were  cod- 
dcmned  to  wear,  daring  a  certain  time,  in  public,  a  mark  o( 
i;;Dominy. 


■m 


I; 


m 


itvi  or    ST. 


Inflexible  towards  those  wlio  outra^d  the  law  of  God,  \\t 
was  indulgent  and  patient  to  those  who  failed  in  the  obsop 
▼ance  of  his  own  enactments.  When  some  of  his  servanta 
would  foFj^et  themselves  befure  him,  he  would  gently  say, 
"  Dear  children,  act  not  thus,  for  yoii  afflict  my  heart/' 

To  all  his  deliberations  he  bronght  a  tried  prudeiicc — his 
military  expeditions  and  political  actions  show  a  skill  and 
foresight  that  do  not  appear  easily  reconcileablo  with  hid 
extreme  yonth  and  the  simplicity  of  his  character. 

He  occupied  himself  with  a  zeal  and  assidnity  in  all  tlie 
labours  that  the  government  of  bis  dominions  imposed  upon 
him.  His  regard  for  truth  was  so  great  that  his  least  word 
inspired  the  same  security  as  would  the  most  solemn  oatb 
of  another.  "  One  could  build  upon  his  word  as  upon  a 
rock.** 

Full  of  mercy  and  generosity  for  the  poor,  he  showed  a 
lively  solicitude  for  all  classes  of  his  people.  A.11  who  were 
injured,  no  matter  by  whom,  came  to  him  with  confidence, 
and  never  in  vain;  more  than  once  he  took  the  field  to  avenge 
wrongs  inflicted  on  his  meanest  subjects. 

Under  such  a  prince,  the  moral  and  material  prosperity 
of  Thuringia  could  not  but  increase  ;  the  chroniclers  of  the 
country  have  celebrated  with  enthusiasm  the  happiness  that 
it  enjoyed  during  his  too  short  reign,  and  the  fruit  which  was 
derived  from  the  example  of  the  virtues  of  the  Sovereign. 
The  nobility  imitated  their  head,  and  no  long<;r  were  vassals 
heard  complaining  of  the  warlike  and  oppressive  habits  of 
tboir  lords.  The  people  were  obedient  and  tranquil ;  union, 
peace,  and  safety  reigned  throughout  the  country — all  with 
one  common  voice  joined  in  proclaiming  the  happiness  that 
Thuringia  owed  to  the  wisdom  of  Duke  Louis. 

in  a  word,  all  his  character  and  life  are  contained  in  the 
poble  motto  which  be  had  chosen  from  his  earliest  yea» 
'^Pietyt  Choitity^  Justice  towards  aU^ 


he  showed  a 

A.11  who  were 

th  confidence, 

ield  to  aTenge 


OF    HUSOAItr. 


1M 


He  realised  more  than  any  other,  the  glorious  belief  of 
Catholic  ages,  which  established  a  fundamental  analogy  be- 
tween Chivalry  and  the  Saceiuotal  character,  for  true  knighti 
were  priests  armed  with  justice  and  faith,  as  the  prietU  wert 
the  knighta  of  the  Word  ud  of  pnjet. 


>':i 


I 


'ial  prosperity 
jniclers  of  the 
lappiness  that 
:ait  which  was 
he  Sovereign. 
T  were  vassals 
sive  habits  of 
Ei,nqail ;  union, 
ntry — all  with 
liappiness  that 


»ntained  in  the 
earliest  yea» 


140 


LIPI    or    BT.    BLIZABKTBi 


CHAPTER  yi. 


BO\r    TO!    DUKE    LOUIS    AND    THE    DEAR    ST.    ELIZABKTII    I.TTKD 
GETIIEK    BEFORE    ODD    IN    THE    HOLY    STATE    OF    MAKRIAGK. 


Pan  bona,  miiUer  bona,  In  parte  tlmentiam  Deum  dabitar  vtro  pro  flict!»  bonk 

iVop.  xxvL  8. 

Yulnerastl  oor  meam  loror  mea  sponsa.— (7an<.  Ir.  9. 

A  PRINCE  who  was  so  perfect  a  model  of  a  true  Christian, 
couid  not  receive  a  sweeter  recompense  in  this  vorld  than  the 
loTe  of  a  saint.  We  have  seen  how  our  Elizabeth  retained 
as  her  only  connecting  link  with  the  worldly  life,  this  love 
which  she  associated  with  such  religious  feelings.  On  his 
part,  Louis  failed  not  to  preserve  the  tender  fidelity  of  his 
eariy  years. 

Elizabeth  was  gifted  with  all  that  could  touch  and  win  a 
young  heart.  Adorned  before  God  with  piety  an  1  humility, 
in  the  eyes  of  men  she  possessed  all  personal  attractions. 
The  historians  who  have  preserved  her  portrait  represent  her 
beauty  as  most  regular  and  perfect;  her  conrplexion  was 
clear  brown,  her  hair  black,  her  figure  of  unrivalled  grace 
and  elegance — ^her  deportment  grave,  noble  and  majestic- 
above  all,  her  eyes  beamed  with  tenderness,  charity  and  mercy. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  this  exterior  beauty  reflected  thus 
dazzlingly  the  interior  perfections  of  her  soul. 

It  was  not  on  the  ephemeral  feelings  of  pnrely  hnman 
admiration  that  these  young  people  founded  the  unalterable 
nnion  of  theur  hearts — ^but  it  was  on  a  common  faith,  and  on 
the  strict  practice  of  the  virtoes  that  this  faith  teaches,  and 
the  duties  it  imposes. 

Notwithstanding  her  youth  and  the  almost  child-like  Yiva> 


OF    HUWOAAT. 


HI 


city  of  her  love  for  her  hosUand,  Elizabeth  ncTcr  forfrot  timi 
iic  was  ber  lead,  as  Jesus  Christ  is  liead  of  the  Church,  and 
that  she  should  be  obedient  to  him  in  all  things  as  tiio  Churr'h 
is  to  Jcsns  Ciirist.  Shn  joined  then  to  her  ardent  love  for 
him  a  great  respect — »(ie  hastily  obeyed  his  least  sign  or  word, 
niul  had  a  scrupulous  care  that  by  none  of  her  words  or  actiona 
he  should  be  annoyed  or  receive  the  slightest  grounds  for  im- 
piitience.  The  yoke  to  which  she  submitted  was  in  all  things 
ns  the  Church  wishes  it  should  be,  a  bond  of  love  and  peace, 
fur  Louis  gave  her  full  liberty  to  perform  the  works  that  in- 
terested her  most — those  of  piety  and  mercy. 

lie  even  ejicouraged  and  sustained  her  in  these  holy  exer^ 
ciscs  with  a  pious  care,  and  only  put  a  stop  to  them  when  it 
seemed  to  him  that  her  zeal  would  carry  her  too  far  ;  this  he 
did  by  addressing  to  her  words  dictated  by  affectionate  pru- 
dence and  always  listened  to  with  docility.  Every  night  the 
young  wife,  proGting  of  the  real  or  apparent  sleep  of  her 
husband,  would  get  out  of  bed,  and  kneeling  by  its  side 
would  pray  earnestly,  thinking  of  the  holy  crib  at  Bethlehem^ 
and  thanking  the  Lord  that  Ue  had  deigned  to  be  born  at 
midnight  for  her  salvation  and  that  of  the  human  race. 

Her  husband  often  awoke,  and  fearing  that  she  was  too 
delicate  co  endure  such  penances,  he  would  beg  of  her  to  givd 
over.  "Cease,  dear  sister,"  he  would  say,  "and  take  thy 
rest"-  then  taking  her  hand  he  would  hold  it  until  she  was 
agai^t  by  his  side,  or  until  he  would  fall  asleep  leaving  his 
linnd  in  hers — then  she  used  to  bathe  in  tears  of  pious  fei^ 
vour  that  beloved  hand  that  seemed  to  al!y  her  to  earth 
Louis  never  employed  any  constraint  to  oblige  her  to  discon- 
tinue her  pious  wcrks,  they  rejoiced  him  and  gladdened  his 
he.-irt.  Ysentrude.  one  of  Elizabeth^s  most  confidential  at- 
tendants, related  to  the  ecclesiastical  juoges  a  circumstance 
that  proved  Louisas  indulgence.  The  Duchess,  in  older  not 
to  oversleep  hei'self  nor  to  disturb  her  hudband,  ordered  one  of 


143 


liri    or    ST.    BLIEABITR, 


her  maidfl  of  honour  to  Awake  her  at  a  certain  honr  by  oat(*htng 
her  foot — it  hapi)encd  on  one  occasion  that  Ysentrude  conght 
the  Dnke's  foot,  he  awoke  saddenly,  but  gnesning  the  canse  of 
the  dii^turbance,  he  lay  down  again  without  sliowing  the  least 
lign  of  impatience.  "  He  saw,"  njs  the  historian,  "  tliat  Hlie 
loved  Gofi  with  her  whole  heart,  and  that  thought  comforted 
him  ;  and  flhe  confiding  in  the  pietj  and  windom  of  her  hus- 
band did  not  conceal  from  him  any  of  her  penitential  exercises, 
well  knowing  that  he  woald  never  interfere  between  her  and 
her  Saviour." 

To  the  frequent  proofs  of  their  mutual  tenderness  both 
added  gentle  exhortations  to  advance  together  in  the  way  of 
perfection;  this  holy  emulation  fortified  and  preserved  them 
in  the  service  of  God — by  it  they  learned  to  draw  even  from 
the  ardent  affection  which  united  them,  the  charm  and  feeling 
of  the  Supreme  Love. 

The  grave  and  pure  character  of  their  mutual  devotion 
was  revealed  by  the  touching  custom  which  they  preserved 
even  after  marriage,  of  calling  each  other  brother  and  «>/er, 
as  it  were  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  their  childhood, 
and  make  their  whole  lives  oae  unbroken  attachment. 

The  happiness  of  being  together  was  indispensable  to 
them  ;  so  powerful  were  the  chaste  attractions  of  each,  so 
entirrt  was  the  union  of  their  souls,  that  they  could  ill  endure 
being  separated  even  for  the  shortest  time.  Thus  when  the 
Duke's  hunting  excursions  were  not  too  distant  he  always 
took  his  dear  Elizabeth  with  him — and  she  was  happy  to  ac- 
eom])any  him,  even  though  she  had  to  travel  over  rugged 
roads  and  dangerous  paths,  and  to  brave  storms ;  but  neither 
H^n  00^  snow,  nor  floods,  nor  excessive  heats,  could  hinder 
her  from  going,  so  anxious  was  she  to  be  near  him  who  hever 
kept  her  from  God.  Nevertheless,  it  sometimes  happened 
that  Louis  was  obliged  by  his  duties  as  a  Sovereign  to  unde^ 
lake  long  joorneys,  even  oat  of  his  own  dominions,  Where  ht 


•V    BVVOART. 


tm 


\ri 


\  I 


roiil'l  not  bring  liU  wife  ;  then  m  soon  as  he  set  out,  ohe 
uxiM  lay  aside  her  royal  robes,  and  covering  her  he^l  wiiii  a 
,  would  put  on  the  costume  of  a  widow.  Tliuy  she  would 
!ii  till  during  hifl  absence,  awaiting  his  return  iu  prujers, 
A\<  and  severe  mortifications. 
I  lilt  n.s  soon  as  the  approach  of  Louis  was  annonuced,  ^he 
ii..  (1  to  hastily  adorn  herself  with  nil  the  care  and  maguili* 
. .  IK  i"  her  rank  required.  "  It  is  not,"  she  would  sny  to  litf 
I  ;ti<l('iiK,  "through  carnal  pleasure  nor  vanity  that  I  deck 
iiivsclf  thus — God  is  my  witness,  but  oidy  through  Christian 
rliirity,  that  I  may  remove  from  my  brother  all  occasions  of 
(i  soiitcnt  or  sin,  if  any  thing  in  me  should  diiiplease  him, 
tliat  he  may  love  but  me  in  the  Lord,  and  that  Qod  who  has 
(oioceruted  our  lives  upon  earth  may  unite  us  in  heaven." 

Then  she  would  go  forth  to  meet  him  with  a  simple,  child- 
like joy,  and  while  they  remained  together  she  wouFd  use 
(veiy  effort  to  please  his  eyes  and  his  heart.     At  table  she 
colli !   not  bear  to  sit  at  a  distance  from  her  husband,  but 
Would  take  her  place  by  his  side,  which  was  expressly  con* 
trarv  to  the  custom  then  observed  by  ladies  of  high  rank. 
Ill  this  way  she  not  only  gratified  hereelf  by  being  as  near  as 
pos^ble  to  her  loved  lord,  but  she  felt  that  her  presence  served 
to  check  the  light  and  frivolous  discourse  of  the  young  knights. 
Nothing  indeed  could  be  more  imposing  even  to  worldly 
v*uls  than  the  sight  of  so  much  virtue  in  these  young  persdns. 
Lnited  by  a  holy  concord,  full  of  purity  and  humility  before 
loi],  full  of  charity  and  good-will  towards  men,  loving  eacli 
th*  r  with  a  love  that  drew  them  both  to  God,  they  offered 
)  heaven  and  earth  the  most  edifying  sight,  and,  in  anticip*  r 
on,  realized  the  charming  picture  which  the  greatest  of  Catb> 
lie  poets  has  traced  of  a  celestial  marriage : 

L»  lor  eonooHto  e  I  lor  H«ti  sembhinlik 
e  mamTiglte  o  doloe  ■goardo^ 
>t  otfion  do'ponster  nuitl 

^fi^  PmraS.  o.  A 


•■it 


144 


&!#■    Of    ST.    ILIIABBTa, 


CHAPTER  VII. 


r 


mom  ni  oiar  it.  EuzABrrn  practised  thi  fnvra  m 

MORTIFICATION. 

Or  to  daiTM  aiiMl  tmo, 

Et  lie  M  vie  H  fnit  ewn, 

Por  I'trtne  dcffondre  et  oonrrtr^ 

Kt  por  saint  i'vadU  ouvrir. 

Bkhoij)  then  our  young  princess  in  possession  of  all  th« 
happiness  of  early  y.-ars,  of  the  sweet  joys  of  the  morning 
of  life  that  no  after  pleasures  can  replace,  that  no  grief  can 
banish  from  the  memory  ;  those  joys  whose  absence  darkcni 
life,  whose  romemhrance  suffices  to  alleviate  the  deepest  woe 
ThuH  God  often  grants  this  consolation  (like  tlie  dew  of  morn) 
to  his  creatures,  that  they  may  be  better  able  to  endure  the 
"  labours  of  the  day  and  the  heats." 

But  Elizabeth,  whose  mind  was  fixed  on  heaven,  though 
accepting  this  happiness  with  a  joyful  submission,  understood 
its  danger,  and  for  this  predestined  soul  it  was  a  trial  over 
which  she  was  bonnd  to  triumph. 

Bhe  felt  that  the  grace  which  God  had  granted  her  in 
oniting  her  to  him  she  loved  so  much,  obliged  her  to  a  more 
ceaioufl  6<i«'iity,  and  a  more  ardent  gratitude  towards  hor 
celestiiU  Heucfactor.  Though  assuredly  her  young  heart  could 
not  be  stained  vith  grievous  sin,  she  constantly  remembered 
that  before  the  strict  justice  of  God,  the  most  faithful  sou  la 
are  but  «n{ifori table  servants,  and  tliat  we  can  never  anpose 
on  ovrse  ves  sufficient  penance  to  merit  salvatktn. 

Thence  she  iegan,  in  the  humility  of  her  soul,  to  amasi 
that  soj^rabundaoce  of  grace  and  merit  which  is,  according 


or  nuvoAAf. 


r 


to  Ibo  8W«et  and  cr>nM>liuf^  doctrine  of  the  Chnrch,  for  the 
iAiiit<<  of  Qod  •  brilliant  glory,  and  for  the  faithful  a  rich 
treii!<!irc  a«J  a  snr«5  refn;^. 

Site  RO'i'/ht  at  first  to  conquer  her  flesh  hj  rifi^e.     We 
have  sern  with  what  perscrerinK  fidelity  she  mortified  hr^rself 
in  tills  way,  aad  with  what  mingled  solicitude  and  indulgence  # 
her  ] lions  husband  saw  her  rise  from  his  side  to  approach  God 
ill  prayer. 

But  frequently,  notwithstanding  her  good  trill,  Elizabeth 
during  her  derations  would  not  be  able  to  resist  sleep,  and 
wuuid  slumber,  kneeling  on  the  carpet  by  the  bed-side,  her 
hand  clasped  in  that  of  her  husband  ;  her  women  finding  her 
thus  in  the  morning,  used  to  reproach  her,  and  ask,  would 
it  not  be  as  well  for  her  to  sleep  in  her  bed  as  by  its  side. 
"  No,"  she  would  say,  "  if  I  cannot  always  pray,  I  can  at 
least  mortify  myself  by  remaining  away  from  my  beloved 
husband  ;  I  wish  that  my  flesh  should  be  con(|uered — it  can 
but  gain  by  doing  what  the  soul  wishes."  When  her  husband 
was  absent,  she  prayed  all  night  to  Jesus,  the  spouse  of  her 
<!oul.  But  this  was  not  the  only  self-inflicted  penance  endured 
by  this  young  and  religious  princess. 

Under  hvr  finest  clothes  she  always  wore  a  eiliee  (hair* 
sliirt)  nevi  her  skin.  Every  Friday,  in  commemoration  of 
the  painfel  passion  of  our  Lord,  and  every  day  during  Lent, 
she  cAiised  the  discipline  to  be  administered  to  her  severely 
and  in  secret,  "  In  order,''  says  a  historian,  "  to  render  to 
our  Saviour,  who  was  cruelly  scourged,  some  recompense." 
She  would  then  return  to  her  court  with  a  joyous  and  serene 
countenance. 

Later  in  life,  she  would  arise  from  her  couch,  and  going 
to  the  next  chamber,  wherein  were  her  attendants,  she  would 
order  them  to  give  her  some  hard  blows  ;  then,  strengthened 
against  her  own  weakness,  she  would  return  to  her  husband 
with  redoubled  gaiety  and  amiability.  "  Thus/'  sayi  a  coop 
7 


i46 


LIFB.OV    IT.     KLIXABBTB. 


temporary  pocra,  "she  sought  to  approach  into  God,  nnd 
to  break  the  bonds  of  the  prison  of  flesh,  like  a  valiant 
warrior  for  the  love  of  the  Lord." 

Elizabeth  resolved  that  these  secret  ansteritics  sbonld  hy 
DO  means  influence  her  daily  duties,  or  render  her  dispositioo 
in  the  least  degree  sad  or  gloomy. 

She  cheerfully  took  part  in  the  festivals  and  merry-maku!g« 
of  worldlings,  at  which  her  rank  in  society  assigned  to  her  a 
prominent  place;  and  as  a  great  saint,  worthy  in  every  regard 
to  understand  and  judge  her,  has  said  of  her,  "  She  played 
and  danced  sometimes,  and  was  present  at  assemblies  of 
recreation,  without  prejudice  to  her  devotion,  which  was  so 
deeply  rooted  in  her  soul,  that,  like  the  rocks  about  the  lake 
Hiotta,  which  grew  greater  by  the  beating  of  the  waves,  her 
devotion  increased  amongst  the  pomps  and  vanities  to  whicli 
her  condition  exposed  her." 

She  detested  all  kinds  of  exaggeration  in  works  of  piety 
— all  affectation  of  grief — and  said  of  those  who,  in  praying, 
wore  a  sad  or  severe  aspect,  "  They  seem  as  if  they  wished 
to  frighten  our  good  God  ;  can  they  not  say  to  Him  all  they 
please  with  cheerful  hearts  ?" 

Elizabeth  never  neglected  any  means  of  offering  to  God 
her  tribate  of  hamility  and  obedience.  She  had  for  confessor 
Master  Conrad  of  Marburg,  of  whom  we  shall  hereafter  speak, 
and  to  whom  her  husband  permitted  her  to  make  a  vow  of 
obedience  in  »\\  that  was  not  contrary  to  his  marital  au* 
thority. 

NoWf  Conrad,  who  had  opposed  the  imposition  of  certain 
taxes,  which  he  looked  upon  as  unjust  and  contrary  to  the 
will  of  God^  and  which  were  levied  to  defray  the  expenses  ol 
the  royal  table,  positively  prohibited  his  penitent  from  nou- 
rishiug  herself  with  any  other  food  than  that  which  she  knew 
was  furnished  from  her  husband*8  private  resources,  and  not 
wrung  from  tte  earnings  of  the  poor  vassals.    The  compas* 


or  BUiraART 


14 


lionate  lieart  of  the  yonng  dachen  complied  with  this,  and 
iiavir;^  adopted  the  resolution,  she  pat  it  in  practice  with  the 
most  scrupnlous  fidelity,  thoagh  she  was  sometimes  embar* 
rassed  by  it,  as  she  still  contiuned  the  custom  of  sitting  b^ 
iier  husband  at  meals. 

This  pious  prince  placed  no  obstacle  in  her  way,  and  when 
her  ^AiTee  maids  of  honour  asked  his  permission  to  follow  the 
example  of  their  mistress,  he  immediately  granted  it,  adding, 
"  I  would  very  willingly  do  the  same,  if  it  were  not  that  I 
fear  slander  and  scandal ;  but,  with  God's  help,  I  will  soon 
change  this  kind  of  life/*  Full  of  a  tender  respect  for  the 
conscience  of  his  wife,  he  warned  her  with  gentle  and  affec- 
tionate care  when  there  were  any  dishes  forbidden  by  her 
rnle ;  and,  when  he  knew  that  all  were  the  produce  of  his 
estates,  he  pressed  her  to  eat ;  but  Elizabeth  would  scarcely 
taste  anything,  always  fearing  lest  it  should  be  the  fruit  of 
I  tlie  bitter  sweat  of  the  poor.  She  was  most  careful  to  hide 
I  from  the  world  what  she  did  for  the  love  of  God,  and  when 
seated  at  the  Duke's  table,  surrounded  by  the  nobles  and 
officers  of  the  court,  she  had  recourse  to  a  thousand  little 
stratagems  that  they  might  not  remark  her  prrvations.  She 
would  feign  to  watch  the  arrangement  of  the  service  with 
great  care — would  frequently  give  orders  to  the  attendanti^- 
^vould  speak  to  each  guest,  and  invite  him  to  drink.  Some* 
times  even  she  used  to  cut  into  little  pieces  the  bread  and 
neat  placed  before  her,  and  scatter  them  on  her  plate,  to  give 
them  the  appearance  of  being  left. 

Elizabeth  often  left  the  most  abundantly  served  table  hungry 
ind  thirsty.  Her  noble  maidens,  companions  in  her  penancoi 
relate,  that  sometimes  for  her  entire  subsistence  she  had  but 
iry  bread,  or  a  few  little  cakes  steeped  in  honey. 

Ore  day  at  a  great  banquet  she  could  reserve  but  five 
rery  small  birds,  and  almost  all  these  she  gave  to  her  maidena, 
For  whose  privations  she  had  far  greater  compassion  than  for 


■\ 


'., 


i  ■  : 


148 


LIFE    or    8T.     BLIIABKTn, 


her  own.  Ou  another  occasion,  as  sbe  went  to  join  her  hn» 
band  at  ^he  Diet  of  the  empire,  she  found  nothiuj;  that  her 
conscience  would  permit  her  to  eat  but  a  piece  of  coaiae  black 
bread,  so  hard  that  she  had  to  steep  it  in  hot  water  ;  bat,  ua 
it  was  a  fust  day,  she  was  contented  with  it,  and  traFelled 
the  same  day,  ou  that  scanty  meal,  sixteen  leagues  on  horse- 
back. 

A  touching  and  graceful  tradition  tells  as  how  it  pleased 
Ood  to  render  these  privations  less  rude  and  repulsive  to  her. 
One  day,  durii\g  the  absence  of  her  husband,  she  dined  alone, 
and  her  poor  repast  consisted  of  dry  bread  and  water.  The 
Duke  having  returned  suddenly,  came  in,  and,  as  a  mark  of 
affection,  wished  to  drink  from  her  glass  ;  he  found  in  it,  to 
his  great  surprise,  a  liquor  Which  seemed  to  him  to  be  the 
best  wine  he  had  ever  tasted.  He  asked  the  cup-bearer 
whence  it  was  brought,  and  the  latter  replied  that  he  had 
only  served  the  duchess  with  water.  Louis  said  no  more, 
but  according  to  the  expression,  as  pioas  as  it  is  just,  of  the 
narrator,  he  had  soul  enounh  to  recognise  in  this  circumstance 
a  mark  of  divine  favour,  and  a  reward  of  the  socrifxces  which 
his  wife  imposed  on  herself. 

Often,  accompanied  by  her  maiden^,  Elizabeth  nsed  to  go 
through  the  offices  of  the  castle,  and  inquire  with  the  greatest 
care  whence  were  brought  the  various  provisions.  When  she 
found  some  permitted  food,  she  would  say  to  her  ladies,  "  Yoa 
will  eat  but  of  that,''  or  when  an  allowed  drink,  such  as  wine 
from  her  husband's  vineyards,  she  would  add,  "  Drink  bat  of 
this."  But  when  she  found  nothing  to  trouble  her  conscience, 
slie  would  clap  her  hands  with  child-like  joy,  and  cry  out, 
*'  To-day  everything  goes  well ;  we  can  both  eat  and  drink." 

She  was  then  about  fifteen  years  old,  and  had  preserved 
the  simplicity  of  her  mind  and  heart,  whilst  rendering  herself 
worthy  of  heaven,  by  the  practice  of  virtues  far  aboTO  hef 
•go. 


or    HUKOAftT 


I4t 


A  life  80  rigoroos,  aud  so  contrary  to  the  eastern  of  her 
rank  and  her  time,  drew  apon  the  duchess  the  disapprobation 
and  |)ublic  reproach  of  all  the  court ;  evea  the  Duke  was  uot 
(.pared  on  account  of  bis  tolerance  for  wbnt  were  accounted 
the  extravagancies  of  his  wife.  Both,  however,  resigned 
tliemselvcs  patiently  to  these  profane  judgments,  loving  better 
to  ))lcai»e  God  than  men. 

Tbe  young  prino  ;ss  soon  found  a  new  field  for  the  exercise 
of  her  zeal  and  love  of  mortification.  One  great  festival  day, 
according  to  the  custom  of  Wartbourg,  she  went  down  to  the 
ciiurch  at  Eisenach,  clothed  in  sumptuous  robes,  covered 
witli  precious  stones,  her  head  encircled  with  the  ducal  crown, 
and  accompanied  by  the  Duchess-mother,  and  a  number  of 
attendants.  Elizabeth  was  accustomed  every  time  she  entered 
■y  church  to  turn  her  eyes  uumediately  towards  the  crucifix. 
she  now  did,  and  seeing  the  image  of  her  Saviour  naked, 
iruwned  with  thorns,  «,he  hands  and  feet  pierced  with  nails, 
she  felt  penetrated  with  compunction,  and  entering  into  her* 
Belf  she  said,  "  Behold  thy  God  hangiftg  naked  on  the  cross, 
and  thou,  useless  creature,  art  covered  with  gorgeous  vesture  ; 
his  head  is  crowned  with  thorns,  and  thou  wearest  a  crown 
of  gold.*'  At  the  same  moment,  so  full  of  pious  compassion 
Mas  her  tender  heart,  that  she  fell  fainting  on  the  ground. 
Her  alarmed  attendants  raised  her,  carried  her  to  the  church 
porch  for  air,  and  sprinkled  her  with  holy  water.  She  was 
soon  restored  to  strength,  but  from  that  moment  she  formed  a 
resolution  to  renounce  all  pomp  of  dress,  except  on  those 
occasions  when  the  duties  of  her  rank,  or  the  will  of  her 
iiusband,  obliged  her  to  it.  In  the  depositions  of  her  maids 
we  find  a  detail  of  several  articles  which  then  formed  part  of 
the  toilette  of  a  princess.  For  instance,  she  renounced  all 
i\c(\  stuffs,  bright  coloured  veils  for  the  head,  narrow  and 
plaited  sleeves  which  appear  to  have  been  great  luxuries  at 
that  period,  silken  Allele  for  the  hair,  aud  lastly,  long  dressei 


m 


Liri    OF    8T.    ILIIABITH, 


r 


iifc 


with  trains.  When  necessity  oblig^  her  to  be  clothed  in 
robes  of  state^  she  retained  ander  the  royal  purple  her  simp?a 
woollen  garments  and  the  cilice  which  she  never  left  off.  In 
public  assemblies  she  always  appeared  with  the  dignity  and 
odesty  befitting  a  Christian  princess.  She  recommended 
this  plainness  of  attire  to  the  nobh  ladies  who  visited  her, 
and  earnestly  advised  them  to  renounce  in  this  particular 
the  vanities  of  the  world.  She  even  sent  them  patterns  of 
the  dresses  that  sh(»  thought  would  suit  them.  Her  efforts 
were  not  froitless.  Several  of  these  ladies,  touched  by  th 
example  of  this  yojng  and  newly-marrlcd  woman,  g^ve  up  ah 
worldlv  superfluities,  and  some  amongst  them  even  made  vows 
of  perpetual  cnostity. 

Oh  I  holy  simplicity  t  iiuth  of  the  early  ages,  pure  and 
child-like  tenderness  of  the  ancient  days,  will  you  never  be 
restored  ?  Must  we  believe  that  you  are  dead  and  gone  for 
ever  ?  But  if  it  be  true  that  ages  are  in  the  life  of  the 
world  ^8  years  are  in  that  of  man,  will  yon  not,  after  so  long 
and  dark  a  winter,  return,  0  sweet  spring-time  of  Faith,  to 
restore  youth  to  this  cftrth,  and  iti  innocence  to  our  hearts  I 


\ 

■ 

OV    flUMaABT. 


Ul 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

Of  TRV  0RXA1     OHARITY    Or    THB  DBAR    ST.  BLIZABXTPf   AVD   HI! 

LOVE  FOR  POVBRTT. 


"Da  panpcrim  ntdMtlM;  da  p»np«rl  mlcam  nt  aedptas  totam  !—««■■« 
tMtum  iicc!p«  cflelum ;  da  n«  peritiiras  nt  acdpias  Bternas  inensuraa.— &  P*trM 
Chryiologut,  apud  Thetanr.  Nov.  d«  Snneti$. 

In  t«  mlMnioordta,  fn  te  pietste,  '• 

In  te  magniflcenza,  in  to  a'aduna 
Quantunque  in  oreatura  i  di  bontate.** 

.Pant0f  Parad,  e.  88L 

Whilst  Elizabeth  ioltposed  on  her  senses  so  rigorous  a 
ri\straiut,  and  treated  herself,  with  so  much  severity,  her 
hoart  overflowed  with  charity  and  mercy  for  her  unhappy 
fellow-creatures.  The  tender  pity  with  which  from  childhood 
she  had  be^  animated^  took  every  day  new  developments 
which  in  a  short  time  merited  for  her  the  sweet  and  glorioai 
title  under  which  all  Christendom  now  venerates  her — that  of 
the  Patroness  of  the  Poor. 

Generosity  to  the  poor,  particularly  that  exercised  by 
princes,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  the  age 
in  which  she  lived  ;  but  we  perceive  that  in  her,  charity  did 
not  prooeed  from  rank,  still  less  from  the  desire  of  obtaining 
pvaise  or  purely  human  gratitude,  but  from  an  interior  and 
iieavenly  inspiration.  From  her  cradle,  she  could  not  bear 
the  sight  of  a  poor  person  without  feeling  her  heart  pierced 
with  grief,  and  now  that  her  husband  had  granted  her  full 
liberty  in  all  that  concerned  the  honour  of  God  and  the  good 
of  her  neighbour,  she  unreservedly  abandoned  herself  to  her 
natural  inclination  to  solace  the  suffering  members  of  Christ* 
Tills  was  her  rulmg  thought  each  hoar  and  moment ;  to  tba 


18S 


hirm    07    IT.    ILIZABETR, 


aae  of  the  poor  she  dedicated  al  that  she  retrenched  fiom 
the  Btipcrfluities  usually  required  by  her  sex  and  rank.  Yt  t^ 
notwithstanding  the  resources  which  the  charity  of  her  huAbnud 
placed  at  her  disposal,  she  gave  away  so  quickly  all  that  she 
poflsei^ed,  that  it  often  happened  that  she  would  despoil 
he  if  of  her  clothes  in  order  to  have  the  means  of  assUting 
i±u  unfortunate. 

So  toucliing  a  self-denial  could  not  fail  to  affect  the  hearts 
and  imaginations  of  the  people  ;  we  find  in  the  ancient  chro- 
niclers an  anecdote  relating  that,  on  a  certain  Thursday,  the 
Duchess,  richly  robed  and  crowned,  descended  to  the  city ; 
on  the  way,  she  met  a  crowd  of  poor  people,  and  to  them 
she  distributed  all  the  money  she  had  ;  there  was  still  one, 
who  in  a  plaintive  voice  asked  an  alms.  She  sighed  at  no 
longer  having  wherewith  to  relieve  him,  but,  that  he  might 
not  be  grieved,  she  took  off  one  of  her  gloves,  richly  embroi- 
dered and  ornamented  with  precious  stones,  and  gave  it  to 
him.  A  young  knight  who  followed  in  her  train,  seeing 
this,  rode  after  the  poor  man  and  bought  back  f^om  him  the 
Duchess's  glove,  which  he  then  attached  to  his  helmet  as  a 
precious  relic,  and  as  a  pledge  of  Divine  protection.  And 
he  was  right ;  for  from  that  moment,  in  all  the  combats,  at 
all  the  tournaments,  be  overthrew  his  adversaries,  and  never 
was  vanquished  himself.  He  afterwards  joined  in  the  Cru- 
sades, and  his  exploits  acquired  for  him  great  renown.  At 
his  return  to  his  country,  and  on  his  death-bed,  he  declared 
that  he  attributed  all  his  glory  and  all  his  success  to  the 
happiness  he  had  of  wearing  during  his  life  a  souvenir  of  the 
dear  Saint  Elizabeth. 

But  it  was  not  alone  by  presents  or  with  money  that  the 
young  princess  testified  her  love  for  the  poor  of  Christ ; 
It  was  still  more  by  personal  devotion,  by  those  tender  and 
patient  cares  which  are,  assuredly,  in  the  sight  both  of  God 
and  of  the  sufferers,  the  most  holy  and  most  precions  alms. 


}W    nUROART. 


15S 


gi,e  Applied  herself  to  thofie  duties  with  simplicity  and  uofuit 
iii.r  gaiety  of  manner.  When  the  sick  sought  her  aid,  after 
r*  licviiifr  their  wants,  she  would  inquire  where  they  lived,  in 
order  that  she  might  visit  them. 

And  then,  no  distance,  no  roughness  of  road,  could  keep 
bi  r  from  them.  She  knew  that  notiiing  strengtliens  fecllngt 
of  cliarlty  more  than  to  [lenetrate  into  all  that  is  positive  and 
material  in  human  misery.  She  sought  out  the  huts  most 
distiiiit  from  her  castle,  which  were  often  repulsive,  through 
null  and  bad  air,  yet  she  entered  these  haunts  of  poverty  in 
a  inaiiner  at  once  full  of  devotion  and  familiarity.  She  car- 
rii'd  herself  what  she  thought  would  be  necessary  for  their 
niiscruble  inhabitants.  She  consoled  them,  far  less  by  her 
gtMicrous  gifts  than  by  her  sweet  and  affectionate  words. 
Wlien  she  found  them  in  debt  and  unable  to  pay,  slie  engaged 
to  discharge  their  obligations  from  her  privy  purse. 

Poor  women  in  childbed  were  particularly  the  objects  of 
her  com()assion.  Whenever  she  could,  she  used  to  go  sit  by 
tlieir  bedsides  to  assist  and  encourage  them.  She  used  to 
ttike  their  new-born  children  in  her  arms  with  a  mother'a 
love,  and  cover  them  with  clothes  made  by  herself  ;  she  often 
held  them  at  the  baptismal  font,  in  order  that  tliis  spiritnal 
maternity  might  a£ford  her  stronger  motives  for  loving  and 
taking  care  of  them  during  their  whole  lives. 

When  one  of  her  poor  died,  she  used  to  come  to  watch  by 
the  body,  to  cover  it  with  her  own  hands,  and  often  with  the 
fheets  from  the  royal  bed  ;  she  would  also  assist  at  he  funeral 
service,  and  the  people  often  saw  with  admiration  this  royal 
ialy  following  with  humility  and  recollection  the  poor  coffin 
(if  the  meanest  of  her  subjects. 

Returned  to  her  home,  she  employed  her  leisure  Loar% 

Dot  in  the  luxurious  enjoyments  of  the  nch,  but,  like  the 

valiant  woman  of  Scripture,  in  laborious  and  useful  work^ 

She  spun  wool  with  her  maids  of  honour,  and  afterwards 

1* 


154 


Liri    OP    ST.    KLIZABKTn, 


made  it  into  garments  for  the  poor,  or  for  the  relifriouR  m'lv 
dicants  nrhc  at  that  period  were  established  in  her  dominioiK 
She  oft^n  tools  for  licr  repasts  Tegetnbles,  and  these  desi^ni- 
edlj  bndly  cooked,  and  without  lalt  or  other  seasoninp:,  in 
drder  tliaf  »he  might  Icnow  by  experience  bow  the  poor  wcr*' 
fed  ;  and  mch  meals  she  took  most  joyfully. 

We  huvo  seen  how  she  frequently  suffered  hunger,  rothi  r 
than  use  food  which  she  thought  the  fruit  of  the  taxes  un- 
justly required  from  her  poor  subjects.  But  she  did  not 
confine  to  tiiese  purely  personal  scruples  her  zeal  for  justice 
and  her  earnest  solicitude  for  the  unfortunate.  When,  in 
the  exercise  of  the  domestic  cares  of  her  household,  she  dis- 
covered any  traces  of  violence  or  wrong  committed  against 
poor  country  people,  she  would  go  and  denounce  it  to  her 
husband,  and  would  endeavour  to  recompense  the  aggrieved 
party  as  far  as  her  means  would  permit. 

As  if  these  touching  virtues  were  the  undoubted  heritage 
of  the  house  of  Hungary,  we  find  them  two  centuries  later 
in  the  person  of  a  young  and  illustrious  sovereign — daughter, 
w  was  our  Elizabeth,  of  a  king  of  Hungary — Hedwige, 
elected  at  the  age  of  thirteen  years  to  the  throne  of  Poland, 
who  by  her  marriage  with  Jagellon  effected  the  union  of  Po- 
land and  Lithuania,  and  who  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight 
years  in  the  odour  of  sanctity,  renowned  as  the  most  beauti- 
fid  and  most  courageous  princess  of  her  time. 

Worthy  of  being  of  the  race  of  Elizabeth  by  the  great 
kindness  of  her  heart,  Hedwige  has  left  in  the  annals  of  her 
country  one  of  the  most  exquisite  sentences  ever  uttered  by 
Christian  lips.  Some  poor  peasants  dime  weeping  to  her  to 
tomplain  that  the  king's  servants  h'a,d  taken  their  cattle. 
She  went  immediately  to  her  husband  and  obtained  their  res. 
loration,  after  which  she  said,  "Their  cattle  indeed  aro 
returned  to  them,  but  who  can  restore  to  them  their  tears.** 
.    Elizabeth  loved  to  carry  secretly  to  the  poor,  not  aloni 


or  BUMOAir. 


i$t 


monov,  but  provisions  and  othor  maiien  whivb  the  destiiiMi  for 
tli<  in.  She  went  thus  laden,  by  the  winding  aid  rugged  palhe 
iii.it  led  from  the  oaatle  to  the  city,  and  to  the  cabins  of  the 
lu'i^iibcuring  valleys.  ^ 

One  day,  wlien  accomjMuiied  by  one  of  her  favourite  maid- 
ens. MS  she  descended  by  a  rude  little  path — (still  pointed  out) 
—and  carried  under  her  mantle  bread,  meat,  e§^  and  other 
fiM)  I  to  distribute  to  the  poor,  she  suddenly  encountered  her 
liibhand,  who  was  returning  from  hunting.  Astonished  to  see 
lai  tlius  toiling  on  nnder  the  weight  of  her  burthen,  he  said  to 
li(  r,  '*  I^t  US  see  what  you  carry*' — and  at  the  same  time  drew 
open  the  mantle  which  she  held  closely  clasped  to  her  bosom ; 
but  beneath  it  were  only  red  and  white  roses,  the  most  beauti* 
till  lie  had  ever  seen — and  this  astonished  him,  as  it  was  no 
longer  the  season  of  flowers.  Se'sing  that  Elizabeth  was 
troubled,  he  sought  to  console  he*^  by  his  caresses,  but  he 
ceased  suddenly,  on  seeing  over  h'  r  head  a  luminous  appear- 
aiiee  in  the  form  of  a  crucifix.  Ho  then  desired  her  to  continue 
JKM-  route  without  being  disturbs!  by  him,  and  he  returned  to 
Wartburg,  meditating  with  re'Xfllection  on  what  God  did  for 
her,  and  carrying  with  him  oie  of  those  wonderful  roses,  which 
lie  ])rcserved  all  his  life.  At  the  spot  where  this  meeting  took 
place,  he  erected  a  pillar,  surmounted  by  a  cross,  to  consecrate 
for  ever  the  remembrance  of  that  which  be  ha^  seen  hovering 
over  the  head  of  his  wife. 

Amongst  the  unfortunate  who  particularly  attracted  her 
oonipassion,  those  who  occupied  the  chief  place  in  her  heart 
were  the  lepers ;  the  mysterious  and  special  character  of  their 
malady  rendered  them,  throughout  the  middle  agA,  objects  <A 
a  solicitude  and  affection  mingled  with  fear. 

Elizabeth,  like  many  holy  and  illustiious  sovereigns  of  her 
time,  vanquished  the  latter  sentiment,  and  despised  all  the  pre- 
cautions which  separated  outwardly  from   Christian  societj 


156 


LtPI    OP    IT.    ILIEABtrn, 


thoM  boingn  mnrked  by  tho  hand  of  God.  Whercxcr  (1  "v 
were  to  be  found,  the  wont  to  tht*in,  m  if  no  oontagioD  wen-  t< 
be  dn.ided  ;  bIio  sat  bj  them,  spuke  to  Uicm  toudvr  and  c  n- 
loliiig  HordH,cxhc.ited  them  to  patience  and  confidence  in  (••  «J, 
and  never  left  thetn  until  she  had  diatributcd  abundant  aliii\ 
*  You  oui^lit,'*  ibe  would  say,  **  cheerfully  to  suffer  thi^  martyr 
doin ;  it  should  cause  you  neither  gr'ef  nor  anger.  A»  fur  iih>, 
I  believe  that  if  you  endure  patiently  this  hell  which  God 
tends  you  in  this  world,  you  shall  be  saved  from  tho  pains  o! 
the  other,  and  that  is  a  great  gain.**  Having  one  day  met  oua 
of  those  unfortunates,  who  suffered  besides  from  a  malady  in 
the  head,  and  whose  appearance  was  repulsive  in  the  high«  st 
degree,  she  led  him  to  a  retired  part  of  tho  orchard,  cut  off  liin 
matted  hair,  laid  his  head  on  her  knees,  and  washed  ana 
cleansed  it;  her  maids  of  honour  having  surprised  her  at  tiiis 
strange  occupation,  she  smiled,  but  said  nothing. 

One  Holy  Thursday  she  assembled  a  great  number  of  lepeiis 
washed  their  hands  and  feet,  and,  kneeling  humbly  befuie 
them,  kissed  their  sores  and  ulcers. 

Another  time,  the  Landgrave  having  gone  to  spend  some 
lays  at  his  castle  of  Naumburg,  which  was  situated  in  tlie 
tentre  of  his  southern  possessions,  and  near  Saxony,  Eliza* 
beth  remained  at  Wartburg  and  employed  herself  during  her 
husband^s  absCice  in  redoubling  her  zeal  and  care  tor  the 
sick  and  poor,  in  washing  and  clothing  them  with  garments, 
(he  work  of  her  own  hands,  notwithstanding  the  discontent 
testified  by  the  Duchess-mother,  Sophia,  who  had  remained 
with  her  son  since  the  death  of  her  husband.  But  the 
young  DuChess  did  not  heed  the  complaints  of  her  motheria* 
law. 

Amongst  the  sick  there  was  a  poor  little  leper  named 
Helias,  ixdioec  condition  was  so  deplorable  that  no  one  would 
take  chai]|ne  of  him.    Elizabeth,  seeing  him  thus  abandoned 


•  f    BUVaABT. 


!»• 


hf  ntl,  felt  hfivclf  bonnd  to  do  more  for  him  than  for  any 
oth(r;  she  took  and  bathed  him  hertelf,  anointed  him  with  a 
heuliiii;  bnhn,  and  then  laid  him  in  the  hud,  even  that  which 
ihc  ylinrcd  with  her  royal  husband.  Now,  it  happened  that 
tlif  I >  lice  retnrned  to  the  castle  whilst  Elizabeth  was  thus 
occn]iicd.  His  mother  ran  out  immcdiatelj  to  meet  him,  and 
when  he  alij^hted  she  said,  "  Come  with  me,  dear  sou,  and  I 
will  show  thee  a  pretty  doing  of  thy  Elizabeth."  "What 
does  this  mean?''  said  the  Duke.  "Only  come,''  said  she, 
"nnd  thou  wilt  see  one  she  loTes  mnth  better  than  thee." 
Thoii  taking  him  by  the  hand,  she  led  him  to  his  chamber 
and  to  his  bed,  and  said  to  him,  "  Now  look,  dear  son,  thy 
wife  puts  lepers  in  thy  bed,  without  my  being  able  to  pre- 
vent her.  She  wishes  to  give  thee  the  leprosy;  thou  seest 
it  tliyself.''  On  hearing  these  words,  the  Duke  could  not 
ro] tress  a  certain  degree  of  irritation,  and  he  quickly  raised 
the  coverings  of  his  bed ;  but  at  the  same  moment,  accord- 
ing,^ to  the  beautiful  expression  of  the  historian,  "  The  Most 
High  unsealed  the  eyes  of  his  soul,  and  in  place  of  the  leper 
he  saw  the  figure  of  Jesus  Christ  crucified  extended  on  hia 
bed."  At  this  sight  he  remained  motionless,  as  did  his 
mother,  and  began  to  shed  abundant  tears  without  being 
ahle  nt  first  to  utter  a  word.  Tlien  turning  round,  he  saw 
his  wife,  who  hod  gently  followed  in  order  to  calm  his  wrath 
against  the  leper.  "Elizabeth,''  said  he,  "my  dear  good 
Bister,  I  pray  thee  often  to  give  my  bed  to  such  guests.  I 
shall  always  thank  thee  for  this,  and  be  not  hindered  by  any 
one  in  the  exercise  of  thy  virtues."  Then  he  knelt,  and 
prayed  thus  to  God: — "Lord,  have  mercy  ol  me,  a  poor 
sinner ;  I  am  not  worthy  to  see  nil  these  wonders  I  ac- 
knowledge thy  almighty  power :  aid  me,  I  pray  thee,  to 
become  a  man  accor(}ing  to  thy  own  heart,  and  according  to 
thy  Divine  will.'*  Elizabeth  profited  of  the  profound  imprea- 
•ior   vhich  this  scene  made  upon  tne  Duke,  to  obtain  bia  per 


168 


Liri    Of    ST.    BLIlABETif, 


misttioo  to  erect  aa  alnubouse  midway  ap  tbe  rorky  llei^ht 
crowned  bj  the  cattle  of  Wartburg,  on  tbe  site  since  oi<  o- 
piud  by  a  convent  of  Frauciiicans.  Slie  therein  uiaiutaiiud, 
from  tliut  time,  twenty-eight  sick  or  infirm  poor  periioiii, 
chosen  from  amongst  those  who  were  too  feeble  to  ascend  to 
the  castle.  Evgry  day  she  went  to  Tisit  Uiem,  and  carrii  vl 
with  her  meat  and  drink  for  their  use.  Living  thus  with  the 
poor  and  for  tlieni,  it  is  not  astonishing  that  Qod  should 
have  inspired  her  with  that  holy  love  of  poverty  which  hug 
rendered  tlio  souls  richest  in  Uis  grace  illuttrious.  Whilst 
f^om  amongst  the  people,  Francis  of  Assisium  opened  to  the 
world  as  a  new  sanctuary,  whereto  rushed  all  those  who 
Were  eager  for  self-denial  and  sacrifice,  Ood  raised  in  the 
midst  of  the  chivalry  of  Germany  this  daughter  of  a  king, 
who,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  years,  already  felt  her  heart  \mri\ 
with  the  love  of  evangelical  poverty,  and  who  confounded 
the  pride  and  pomp  of  her  peers  by  a  sovereign  contempt  of 
earthly  grandeur.  Her  place  seemed  already  marked  out  io 
the  veneration  of  the  Church  and  the  love  of  the  people,  bj 
the  side  of  the  Seraph  of  Assisium. 

In  the  flower  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  she  had  weaned 
her  soul  from  all  thoughts  of  earthly  glory.  "  She,''  says  an 
old  writer,  "  who  was  in  sovereign  glory,  sought  tbe  state  of 
poverty,  that  the  world  might  have  no  part  in  her,  and  that 
she  might  be  poor  as  Jesus  Christ  had  been.'' 

She  could  not  avoid  associating  her  beloved  husband  in 
ill  her  secret  and  holy  reveiies,  and  in  the  aspirations  of  hef 
child-like  heart  for  a  life  at  once  more  simple  and  more  con- 
formable to  evangelical  perfection.  One  night,  as  they  lay  in 
bed,  but  sleepless,  she  said  to  him — '*  Sire,  if  it  will  not  tire 
you,  I  will  tell  you  of  a  thought  I  have  hod  on  the  kind 
of  life  we  should  lead  in  order  to  serve  God  better."  ^  Sny 
It  then,  sweet  friend,"  replied  her  husband;  **what  is  your 
thought  on  this  subject?"    "I  wish,  then,"  said  she^  **thut 


or    RVVOABT. 


iU 


Ko  had  bat  one  farm,  which  would  afford  oa  onon^h  to  IWf 
oil,  and  aboat  two  hundred  sheep  ;  then  jou  could  cultivutt 
tlir  ^^rooiid,  lend  the  horsofl,  and  endure  these  laboun  for 
(i Oil's  suke  ;  and  I  would  take  care  of  the  sheep  and  shear 
till  m.*'  The  Lnnd^rare  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  his  wife, 
and  replied,  "  Well,  dear  sister,  if  we  had  so  much  lanf* 
and  80  many  sheep,  I  think  we  would  be  no  lougcr  poor,  and 
iiiaiiy  iH>ople  would  find  us  still  too  rich/' 

At  other  times,  when  with  her  maidens,  who  were  all  her 
friends,  she  would  apeak  of  the  joys  of  poverty  ;  and  often, 
ill  lier  familiar  discour-es  with  them,  the  yonnji^  priucLSS,  as 
iiitnti  A  child  in  heart  as  in  age,  sough*  to  realise,  at  least 
ill  iinagiimtion,  her  pious  desires.  Removing  iier  royal 
rolx's,  she  would  clothe  herself  in  a  poor  mantle  of  a  grey 

)iir,  such  us  was  worn  by  the  wretched  and  mean  ;  .;he 


idim 


would  cover  her  head  with  a  torn  veil,  and,  walking  ^  lore 
her  companions,  would  feign  to  beg  her  brearj  r  and,  as  if 
warned  by  celestial  inspiration  of  the  fate  f<r  v  hich  God 
rosi  rved  her,  she  once  spoke  to  them  these  prophetic  words  : 
—"Thus  will  I  walk  when  I  shall  be  poor  and  m  misery  for 
the  love  of  my  God." 

"  0  my  God,"  says  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  when  relating 
tills  anecdote  to  his  dear  Philothca,  "  how  poor  was  this  priii* 
cess  in  her  riches,  and  how  rich  in  her  poverty  I" 

We  freely  confess,  that  in  the  life  of  this  SAint,  which  we 
have  studied  with  bO  muoh  lov(;,  nothing  appears  to  us 
more  touching,  more  worthy  of  &amiration — nay,  almost 
even  of  envy,  than  this  child-like  simplicit},  which  may  pos- 
lihly  bring  to  some  lips  the  smile  of  disdain.  To  our  eyes, 
this  free  yielding  to  all  impressions,  these  so  frequent  smiles 
and  tears,  the  girlish  joys  and  sorrows,  these  innocent  sports 
i)\'  her  whose  soul  rested  in  the  bosom  of  her  heavenly 
Father — all  these,  mingled  with  such  painful  sacrifices,  suoh 
(i;rave  thoughts,  so  fervent  a  piety,  so  active,  devoted,  and 


I! 


Ua 


m 


tin    OF    ST.    BLISABBTB, 


ardent  a  charity,  offer  the  sweetest  and  most  powerfid  charm. 
It  is,  beyond  all,  in  times  like  oar  own,  when  fiowen 
wither  and  no  frnits  ripen — when  simplicity  is  dead  in  all 
hearts,  in  private  life  as  well  as  in  public  society,  that  a 
Christian  cannot  study  without  emotion  this  development 
manifested  in  the  soul  of  Elizabeth,  whose  short  life  was  but 
a  lengthened  and  heavenly  infancy — a  perpetual  obedience  to 
the  words  spoken  by  our  Saviour,  when,  taking  a  little  child 
and  setting  him  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,  he  said  to  theoi : 
'*  Amen,  I  say  unto  you,  if  you  become  not  like  unto  littli 
childreO;  yon  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heavuL** 


t 


•f    9VV0AKT. 


^^W 


CHAPTER  IX. 


9ff  m  GBiAT  ravonoH  ARO  HUMiLmr  OP  m  rail  n.  bloa 

mtUt  MdlMnn  dMiwa  tk  iMtet  froetaai  ■iiHaiii.-4  Mtg,  tiM.m, 

Atm$  w  Ik  doa  itiele  rwtnoca. 
▲  THmi  Mrrlr  Teat  ten  ea«r  in«ttr% 

OW  ri  CMUM  iMMlfM  h  iMn 

Tartoi  plante  dadau  MM  «iMf^- 

Tons  tIom  da  m  vie  oato 

Da  Dtaa  MM  <Mk) :  ^ol  M  hMtoft 

Da  pant  amalr  DIaa  par  aqiara. 

Eseola  fta  da  bonaa  mora 

EMampla  fa  da  p^nltanM 

8t  dMtt  BdM9Mn  dlnoooaaaa. 

Tt  was  imposBible  that  Elisabetb  coald  so  derote  herself 
to  the  lore  and  serrice  of  her  neighbour,  if  the  charity  of  God 
did  not  abound  In  and  gorem  her  heart.  To  love  her  breth- 
ren, as  mneh  and  even  more  than  herself,  it  was  necessary 
that  she  shOald  lo\re  God  above  ad  things.  Thas  we  see  her 
each  day  making  new  progress  in  this  sublime  science,  each 
day  hamility,  the  earliest  companion  of  her  childhood,  in- 
creased in  her  soni  and  filled  that  holy  dwelling  in  a  wonder- 
ful manner,  according  to  the  expression  of  one  of  her  poetical 
hiot^aphers.  Each  day,  aided  by  this  dlTine  virtue,  she 
harncd  better  how  to  conqner  all  the  earthly  feelings  that 
remained  in  her  heart,  so  that  notwithstanding  her  extreme 
youth,  the  duties  of  her  state  of  life,  and  the  distractions  inci- 
dent to  her  position  in  society,  she  attained  a  degree  of  repoeo 
and  confidence  in  God,  which  the  greatest  sunts  might  envy. 

To  acquire  and  maintain  this  peace,  she  had  no  more  eiH- 
eacions  and  constant  help  than  the  faithfiil  obserrsnce  of  tiM 


tds 


LIPB    or    ST.    ILIZABBTB, 


cotnmandmenta  of  the  Charcb,  and  the  frequent  reception  of 
the  saci amenta  which  that  Mother,  inexhaustible  in  bcnotits 
offers  to  all  her  children.  She  often  approached  the  Tabl<'  (rf 
the  Lord  and  received  the  blessed  Eucharist  always  witli  the 
greatest  ievcren(;e  and  love.  Elizabeth  understood  with  all 
the  iuleliigence  of  faith,  the  ineffable  value  of  these  sacici 
mysteries.  She  assisted  at  the  divine  Office  with  a  resjHct 
mingled  with  fear  and  love,  and  with  unequalled  fervour. 
Scarcely  did  she  hear  the  bell  toll  for  Office,  when  she,  as  it 
were,  fled  to  the  Church,  and  always  endeavoured  to  arrive 
there  before  her  attendants;  on  her  entrance  she  made  scv* 
eral  genuflexions  unperceived,  accompanied  with  earnest  pia}' 
ers,  as  it  were  secret  communions  with  her  heavenly  Fiv 
then 

During  Mass  she  testified  by  exterior  humility  the  tender 
gratitude  which  she  felt  towards  the  innocent  and  Supreme 
Victim  whose  sacrifice  was  thus  daily  renewed.  Obliged 
from  regard  for  her  husband's  presence,  and  not  to  scaudalize 
the  faithful,  to  clothe  herself  in  the  costume  suitable  to  her 
rank,  she  manifested  the  humility  of  her  heart  by  the  dignified 
modesty  of  her  deportment.  Before  the  Altar  she  laid  aside 
the  ornaments  which  she  could  put  off  and  replace  without 
trouble,  such  as  her  ducal  crown,  her  collar,  bracelets,  rings 
and  gloves;  this  she  always  did  at  the  reading  of  the  Qospel, 
andattheOonsecratioQ  or  CommuDion. 

Now  it  happened  one  day  that  during  the  Canon  of  the 
Mass,  while  she  prayed  fervently,  with  her  hands  folded  and 
modestly  hidden  under  her  mantle,  and  her  veil  raised  in 
order  that  she  might  contemplate  the  sacred  host,  a  celestial 
light  beamed  around  her.  The  celebrating  priest,  a  man  re 
uowned  for  a  holy  life,  saw  at  the  moment  of  the  Consecra- 
tion the  face  of  the  Duchess  refulgent  with  so  great  a  splen- 
dour that  he  wu^  dazzled  by  it,  and  until  the  Commauion  he 
found  himself  surrounded  by  a  light  radiating  from  her  ai  froii 


OF    BURaART. 


168 


die  suQ.  Filled  with  surprise,  he  returned  thanks  to  God,  for 
having  thus  manifested,  by  a  visible  and  wonderful  light,  th« 
ituerior  brilliancy  of  that  holy  soul,  and  he  related  afterwards 
whiit  he  had  seen. 

Elizabeth  most  carefully  observed  the  precepts  of  iha 
Church  in  regard  to  its  festivals.  She  sanctified  the  Lent  by 
prayers  and  abundant  alms,  and  by  fasting,  though  from  thai 
she  was  dispensed  on  account  of  her  age.  But  no  wordt 
could  express  the  fervour,  the  loTe,  the  pious  veneration  with 
which  she  celebrated  the  holy  days,  whereon  the  Church  by 
her  touching  and  expressive  ceremonies  reminds  the  ftiithful 
(if  the  sad  but  ineffable  mysteries  of  our  redemption. 

On  Holy  Thursday,  in  imitation  of  the  King  of  kings,  who 
on  that  day  arose  from  table  and  laid  aside  his  garments,  this 
diiugiiter  of  the  kings  of  Hungary  took  off  all  that  could 
reuiiud  her  of  worldly  pomp,  clothed  herself  in  the  ordinary 
dress  of  poor  mendicants,  and  went  to  visit  the  Churches, 
wearing  a  kind  of  shoes  which  seem  to  have  been  then  worn 
out  by  the  poorest  class.  On  this  day  she  also  washed  the 
feet  of  twelve  poor  persons,  sometimes  lepers,  and  gave  to 
each  twelve  pieces  of  money,  a  cloth  garment,  and  a  loaf  of 
white  bread.  She  passed  all  the  night  from  Holy  Thursday 
to  Good  Friday  in  prayer  and  the  contemplation  of  the  Pas- 
fiion  of  cur  divine  Lord. 

At  the  dawning  of  the  morning  of  the  Great  Sacrifice  she 
nsed  to  say  to  her  attendants,  "  This  should  be  a  day  of  hn* 
in.liation  to  all — I  wish  that  none  of  yon  should  pay  me  the 
lotist  respect" 

Clad  in  the  same  dress  as  on  the  preceding  day,  and  con* 
fornnng  in  all  things  to  the  customs  of  the  poor  women  of  the 
country,  she  nsed  to  carry  under  her  mantle  some  parcels  of 
coiu'se  linen,  a  little  incense,  and  some  small  wax  tapers,  then 
ilie  went  barefooted  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  to  all  the 
C?  ireboi^  an4  kneeling  before  each  Altar,  she  Uid  thereon  a 


164 


I.IFI    OF    tT.    tLIIABlTB. 


I  i   I 


packet  of  linen,  some  incense  and  a  tap^r,  after  whicl^  il« 
prostrated  herself  humbly  and  went  on  to  the  next.  Whe>i 
she  had  thus  made  the  tour  of  the  Chnrch  she  left  it,  and  at 
its  porch  she  distributed  large  alms  to  the  poor,  but  at  they 
did  not  reccfiise  her,  they  crashed  her  pitiless^  as  thvy 
wooM  any  cc  m?!N>n  woman. 

8ome  p«.i9o  ij  at  the  Coart  repfrored  her  for  making  on 
these  solemn  occasions  snch  trifling  oSertngs  to  the  Churches; 
they  said  that  she  who  was  a  sotereig»  Princess  should  set 
an  example  of  munificence,  bnt  the  heavenly  instinct  of  her 
heart  told  her  that  on  such  a  day  the  practice  of  humility  was 
one  of  the  best  means  of  its  sanctification.  She  was  obliged 
to  do  violence  to  the  excessive  generosity  of  her  nature,  in 
Order  to  assimilate  herself  more  to  the  little  ones  and  the 
poor,  and  to  present  to  Qod  the  sacrifice  of  a  contrite  and 
humble  heart,  which  He  has  declared  to  be  the  most  accepta- 
ble of  all  offerings. 

On  the  Rogation  days,  which  were  at  this  time  celebrated 
with  worldly  rejoicings  and  great  luxury  in  dress,  the  young 
Duchess  always  joined  the  procession  clad  in  coarse  garments 
and  barefooted.  During  the  bsrmons,  she  took  her  place 
amongst  the  poorest  mendicants,  and  thus  would  she  follow 
in  all  humility  across  the  fields  the  relics  of  the  Saints  and 
the  Cross  of  our  Saviour ;  for,  says  one  of  her  contemporaries, 
''All  her  glory  was  iu  the  Cross  and  passion  of  Christ ;  the 
world  was  crucified  to  her  and  she  to  the  world." 

Qod,  who  has  called  himself  a  jealous  (jk>d,  did  not  suffer 
that  the  heart  of  His  servant  should  be  engrossed  by  any 
thought  or  affection  purely  human,  bowefer  legitimate  it 
i&ight  have  been. 

A  remarkable  trait,  related  by  the  cihaptain  Berchtold, 
and  repeated  by  all  the  historians,  shows  how  far  Elisabeth 
tnd  her  husband  carried  these  holy  and  tender  scruples,  which 
Hn,  ai  it  were,  the  perfuflMs  ethaled  from  the  soi^  of  tht 


OF    BUVAAftT. 


l«l 


elect.  In  thf  middle  Ages  H  wai  looked  opoo  m  a  wfy 
import  ant  business  to  have  one^  self  blooded.  When  tho 
operation  was  attended  with  saocess,  soleom  thankq^ving 
was  retomed  to  Ood,  ond  all  the  friends  were  inTited  to 
rejoice.  Princes  and  nobles  node  it  a  pretext  for  ^ving 
great  banquets.  For  mairifd  persons,  and  those  betrothed, 
tliere  was  a  peculiar  custon  then  existing.  The  young  man 
went  to  her  he  lored  to  ask  her  to  pray  that  all  might  bo 
well  with  him  ;  the  betrothed  maiden  kissed  and  blessed  the 
wound.  On  one  occasion  Lonis  and  Elizabeth  submitted  tm 
this  operation  at  the  same  time,  and,  to  celebrate  it,  the  Dnk« 
invited  all  the  neighbouring  nobility  to  share  in  the  festirals, 
which  were  continued  for  several  days.  On  one  of  those  daya^ 
as  they  all  assisted  at  a  solemn  Mass  in  the  chnrch  of  St. 
George  at  Eisenach,  the  Duchess,  forgetting  the  sanctity  of 
the  sacrifice,  fixed  her  eyes  and  her  thoughts  on  her  beloved 
husband  who  was  near  her,  and  allowed  herself  to  consider 
unreservedly  and  with  admiration  the  beaaty  and  amiability 
which  rendered  him  so  dear  to  all. 

Bat,  coming  to  herself  at  the  moment  of  the  consecration^ 
the  divine  Spouse  of  her  sonl  manifested  to  her  how  tlieso 
human  considerations  had  offended  Him  ;  for  when  the  priest 
elevated  the  sacred  Host  for  tje  people's  adoration,  she 
thought  she  saw  in  His  hands  our  Saviour  crucified,  with  Hit 
wounds  bleeding.  Alarmed  by  this  vision,  she  recognised  her 
fault,  and  falling  on  her  face  to  the  earth,  bathed  in  tears 
before  the  altar,  she  asked  pardon  of  God. 

Mass  concluded,  the  Landgrave,  doubtless  aecostomed  to 
sec  her  wrapt  in  meditation,  went  ont  with  all  his  court,  and 
the  remained  alone  aud  thus  prostrate  until  dinner-honr. 

Meanwhile  the  repast  prepared  for  the  numerous  guests 
was  ready,  and  none  of  the  attendants  daring  to  disturb  the 
Duchess  at  prayer,  tho  Duke  himself  went  to  call  her,  and 
uid  with  great  genUsneWi  **  Dear  sister,  why  oomest  thoa  Ml 


.^Vf 


If  H 


iU 


i*j 


m 


lee 


Lirs    or    ST.    ILIIABITI, 


lo  table,  and  why  dost  thoa  make  aa  await  thee  for  to  lon^ 
a  time  V*  On  hearing  his  voice,  she  lifted  up  her  head,  and 
looked  at  him  without  speaking,  and  he,  perceiving  her  eyea 
bloc'ilshot  from  the  abundance  and  violence  of  bcr  tears,  ^as 
troubled,  and  tiaid,  "  Dear  sister,  why  lia^t  thou  wept  so  long 
and  so  bitterly  ?"  He  knelt  by  her  'Me,  }\nd  after  friving 
heard  her  story,  he  began  to  weep  and  p?ay  w-'iih  h  f.  }  I  ^  /ing 
continued  thus  for  some  time  he  arose,  piid  said  to  Elizabeth, 
*'  Let  us  put  our  trust  iu  OA ;  I  will  aid  thee  to  do  penance, 
and  to  become  better  than  thou  arf  But. as  he  a&v  that 
she  was  too  sad  to  return  to  the  court,  he  arose  an^  went 
to  his  guests,  whilst  the  Duchess  continued  v  >  lanient  heir 

.  This  young  and  pious  princess  had  then  received  from 
Kea'ii?  the  Gift  of  Tears, — of  those  sweet  and  rcfresLiDg 
t<;ai3,  which  reveal  to  the  soul  the  presence  of  an  inexhaus- 
tible treasure  of  grace  and  consolation  from  On  High. 

The  companions  of  her  life  relate,  that  however  abundant 
her  tears  might  be,  they  never  altered  the  beauty  or  serenity 
of  her  countenance.  This  gift  was  not  peculiarly  hers ;  it 
was  a  common  one  during  her  time  ;  all  the  Catholic  people 
of  those  happy  ages  possessed  it  together  with  their  ardent 
and  simple  faith.  Those  people  knew  its  value  ;  those  fervent 
generations,  who  honoured  with  so  touching  a  reverence  the 
divine  tears  that  fell  from  the  eyes  of  Jesus  a^  the  tomb  of 
his  friend,  apprtciated  its  virtue. 

There  were  tears  at  the  root  of  all  the  poetry  acd  all  the 
piety  of  the  men  of  the  middle  ages. 

This  " Blood  of  the  soul**  as  St.  Augustine  says. — ^thia 
*'  Water  of  the  heart,"  as  the  old  romance  writers  term  it, 
flowed  in  streams  from  their  eyes ;  it  was  in  some  manner, 
for  these  simple  and  pious  sonls,  a  form  of  prayer< — an  homagv 
ftt  once  confiding  and  expressive — a  tender  and  silent  offering, 
vhich  united  them  to  all  the  safferiAgs  and  all  the  merits  of 


Of  mvumAMt, 


im 


joHxw  Christ,  and  of  the  saints,  and  to  the  worship  of  tlio 
Church. 

Like  the  blessed  Dotninick  of  Paradise,  with  their  tears 
they  washed  away  the  stains  of  tlicir  souls — witn  them,  lilca 
8t .  Odile,  they  atoned  for  the  sins  of  those  they  had  loved  io 
tliis  world  ;  collected  by  angels,  who  carried  them  to  the  foei 
of  the  Father  of  Mercies,  they  were  looked  upon  by  Him  aa 
precious  fruita  of  penance  and  holy  love.  And  it  was  not 
,■>[)! V  weak  women  and  ignorant  people  who  thus  experienced 
tiie  sweetness  and  power  of  tears  ;  it  is  sufficient  to  open  at 
random  any  history  of  those  times,  and  we  will  find  almost 
on  every  page  how  pious  kings,  princes,  knights,  entire  armies 
wept  spontaneously  and  sincerely.  All  these  iron-souled  men, 
all  these  invincible  warriors,  bore  in  their  breasts  hearts 
tender  and  simple  as  those  of  children.  They  had  not  yet 
learned  to  destroy  the  natural  innocence  of  theii  feelings,  or 
to  blush  for  them.  They  had  not  then  dried  up  or  frozen 
within  them  the  source  of  pure  and  strong  emotions,  of  that 
divine  dew  which  renders  life  fruitful  and  beautiful. 

Who  remembers  not  the  sighs  and  immortal  tears  of 
Godfrey  and  the  first  Crusaders,  at  the  sight  of  the  tomb  of 
Christ,  which  they  had  gained  after  such  wonderful  exploits 
and  such  hard  straggles.  Later  still,  Richard  Coear  de  Lion 
wept  bitterly  at  the  sight  of  Jerusalem  when  he  could  not 
save  it ;  and  the  confessor  of  St.  Louis  relates  that,  **  Wheil 
they  said  in  the  Litany  these  words,  '  Lord  God,  deign  to 
grant  unto  us  a  fountain  of  tears,'  the  holy  king  used  to  s'^y 
devoutly,  '  O  Lord  Qod,  I  dare  not  beg  from  thee  a  fountain 
of  tears,  but  for  me  some  little  drops  to  moisten  the  dryness 
of  my  heart  will  suffice.'  And  he  related  secretly  to  bit 
confessor  that  many  times  the  Lord  had  given  him  tears  at 
pmyer,  which,  when  he  felt  them  flowing  gently  down  his  face 
and  entering  his  mouth,  seemed  to  him  most  savoury  an! 
•weet,  not  only  to  the  heart  bat  eren  to  the  lips." 


,!,  I 


it 


4 


1418 


Hfl   pw   ft.    •I.XtABBffBy 


CHAPTER  X 


P    I 


■OW  TBI  DBAR  ST.  KLIZABKTH  WAS  KNOWN  AJID  CHmsmD  BT  Till 
OLOKIOOS  ST.  rRAlfCa^  AND  DOW  SBM  BAD  fOB  trVUtVAL  BIBBOTOI 
HASffBU  OOKBAD  Ot  MABBUBO. 

D*  |Nrap«rtatts  htrrMv 

Banetiu  Praoelseia  Mtlst. 

TwrlNun  GhrisU  flunelioMi! 

la  Tin  ne  defldnt 

Itet  pMdU,  «d  gloriMii, 

Et  VfUe  vtam  ■mpllat 

pro  paupertatls  copU 

Begnut  dives  in  patiii^ 

Begos  tfti  subsUtuAMK  \ 

QuM  liic  dItM  lai^ia. 

AntA4m  from  Frcmetaean  Mrmitturffk 

It  seems  to  us,  that  what  w«  have  already  related  of  Eli» 
abeth  suffices  to  show  the  resemblance  which  existed  between 
her  soul  and  that  of  the  Qlorioos  Poor  One  of  Christ  who 
then  iUnminated  Italy  with  the  rays  of  his  miraculous  power. 
Ood  willed  not  that  this  interior  alliance  slioald  remain  sterile 
or  unknown,  bnt^  ob  the  contrary,  that  it  phould  be  frnitfal  in 
coQsdation  for  His  £uthfnl  ielTTant,  and  in  blessings  for  all 
Germany. 

A  remarkable  analog  existed  already  between  their  ex* 
torior  lives.  The  year  130lr,  tliat  in  which  Elizabeth  wna 
bom  in  the  midst  of  sovereign  Teatbess,  at  Presburg,  saw  St. 
Francis  regenerated  in  God  ;  at  the  time  that  she,  dangliter 
of  a  i)Owerfal  king  and  grand-daughter  of  Charlemagne,  cam« 
into  the  world  surrounded  by  all  the  splendour  of  royalty,  he, 
the  son  of  the  merchant  Bemardone,  renounced  his  patrimony, 
liB)  family,  his  honour,  for  the  love  of  God;  beaten  and  imprit 
oned  by  his  lather,  delivered  froui  hii  bon4i  by  hit  motlier^ 


07    BOVOART. 


lei 


tore,  coTcred  wHh  mod,  and  panned  bj  the  insulting  ibontt 
of  his  fellow-citizens,  he  took  with  him  no  second  gannent, 
bat  went  alone  and  poor  to  the  conquest  of  the  worid. 

Elizabeth  needed  not  this  second  birth ;  from  her  cradle 
she  was  prepared  for  hearen,  and  her  innocent  heart  offered  • 
free  and  fertile  soil  for  the  seeds  of  strength  and  life,  which  the 
hnnd  of  Francis  was  about  to  shed  on  the  Christian  world, 
and  of  which  God  reserved  to  her  the  privilege  of  being  one 
of  the  first  and  most  lllnstrious  recipients. 

It  is  not  our  province  to  relate  here  the  wonderful  history 
of  the  trinmphs  of  St.  Francis  in  Italy,  dating  from  the  time 
at  which  he  commenced  his  preaching.  We  must  confine  onr* 
Bclves  to  the  facts  which  connect  him  directly  with  the  destiny 
of  Elizabeth. 

After  some  years  the  commotion  excited  by  the  mission  of 
tills  new  Apostle  in  dormant  and  tepid  souls  became  so  gen« 
oral,  the  change  which  it  operated  in  all  the  social  and  private 
rchitions  of  life  so  violent,  that  it  became  neceslhry  to  adopt 
.Tionns  to  regulate  and  modify  the  power  that  God  permitted 
him  to  exercise. 

In  every  town  he  encountered  a  crowd  of  husbands  who 
wislied  to  abandon  their  wives  and  children,  and  to  consecrate 
themselves  with  him  to  poverty  and  the  preaching  of  the  Oo^ 
pel ;  women  there  Were  also  ready  to  renounce  their  duties  as 
wives  and  mothers  in  order  to  enter  the  monasteries  wherein 
Clare,  his  rival  and  spiritual  sister,  presided  over  the  austeri- 
ties of  the  new-founded  order,  **The  poor  Clares/* 

Reduced  thus  to  the  painful  necessity,  either  of  extinguish- 
ing the  germs  of  sanctity  which  thus  developed  themselves  in 
all  hearts,  or  of  encouraging  a  dangerous  revolution  against  the 
ties  consecrated  by  God  himself,  he  adopted  a  middle  course, 
which  heaven  blessed,  as  well  as  his  otler  works;  he  promised 
to  this  crowd,  so  eager  to  obey  him,  a  special  rule  of  life  which 
would  associate  with  his  religious,  by  a  community  of  prayer^ 
8 


V 

M 


M 


'      !  i    \ 


m 


tirm   Of    IT.    ILIXAIITR. 


good  works  and  pcnaoce,  Christians  engnged  in  domoitic  life, 
without  severing  any  of  the  ties  reudircd  sacred  by  Go<l 
At  first  he  guvc  liiis  rule  by  word  of  mouth  jo  hevcral  of  the 
faithful  of  l)Oth  sexes,  who  hastened  to  put  it  in  practice, 
particularly  in  Florence  and  the  neighbouring  citief.  £at.h 
day  these  happy  soub  fclicitot«d  themselves  on  being  able, 
e?cn  out  of  the  monasteries,  to  rcnouuco  the  dangerous  joyi 
and  luzurieA  of  the  world. 

Francis,  seein^ii;'  the  fcrronr  and  ever  Increasing  numbers  of 
the  members  of  this  association,  gave  them  the  name  of  "Th 
penitents  of  ihe  third  ordet,*^  as  forming  the  third  branch  of 
his  family,  wherein  were  before  reckoned  the  monks  of  whom 
he  was  the  direct  head,  and  the  nuns  of  St.  Clare,  and  in 
1221  he  wrote  and  published  the  rule  which  he  hod  composed 
for  them.  According  to  its  principal  directions  it  was  neces- 
sary that  if  a  married  woman  wished  for  admission,  the  consent 
both  of  husband  and  wife  should  be  obtained.  It  was  neces- 
sary that  evfpy  wrong  should  be  atoned  for,  and  that  a  public 
reconciliation  with  all  one's  enemies  should  take  place.  The 
members,  though  not  quitting  either  their  families  or  their  so- 
cial position,  were  to  wear  garments  of  a  grey  or  dark  colour, 
•nd  were  not  to  carry  weapons  except  in  defence  of  their 
country  or  the  Church.  They  were  not  to  assist  at  feasts, 
dances,  or  profane  rejoicings.  Besides  the  fasts  and  absti- 
nences prescribed  by  the  Church,  they  were  not  to  eat  meat 
on  Mondays  or  Wednesdays,  and  to  fast  from  St.  Martin's 
day  until  Christmas,  as  well  as  on  all  the  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays  of  the  year.  They  were  to  hear  Mass  every  day,  to 
communicate  on  the  three  great  feasts  of  Easter,  Pentecost, 
and  Christmas,  to  recite  each  evening  some  special  prayers,  to 
visit  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  order  in  sickness,  and  to 
ansist  at  their  obsequies.  This  rnle,  as  we  see,  established 
bnt  a  kind  of  pious  association  or  confraternity,  but  by  no 
a  monaatic  order.    It  was  later  that  the  third  order, 


ev  mvwQkmr, 


ITI 


in  ndoptiiig  the  custom  of  making  tolema  rows,  took  thk 
latter  form,  which  it  itill  ^  serfM  io  the  countries  whertio 
it  exists. 

The  immense  and  rapid  pro)iagation  of  the  irder  of  St. 
KriinciR  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  l^est  i.nthenticated 
U\it9  of  this  epoch,  and  we  may  b(*lieve  that  Uie  Church  owed 
tliiH  |)rogre88  to  the  association  of  the  third  order. 

An  infinite  number  of  persons  joined  each  day.  Italy, 
F  ranee  and  Germany  were  successively  invaded  by  this  new 
ariny.  It  should  be  recorded  in  the  history  of  that  century 
tliat  the  enemies  of  the  Church  soon  perceived  the  poworfol 
obstacles  offered  to  them  by  an  organization  which  embraced 
the  faithful  of  all  ages,  ranks,  and  professions — the  warrior 
and  the  merchant,  the  priest  and  the  lawyer,  the  prince  and 
the  peasant — and  in  which  the  obligation  of  the  severe  and 
minute  practice  of  the  duties  of  religion  necessarily  drew  more 
closely  the  bonds  of  affection  and  obedience  which  united  them 
to  the  immortal  Sponse  of  Christ,  while  its  members  were 
meanwhile  left  in  the  midst  of  the  social  and  worldly  life, 
there  to  develop  the  devotion  and  love  newly  enkindled  in 
tneir  hearts. 

Thus  we  read  that  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.  complained 
publicly  that  he  found  in  this  third  order  a  barrier  to  all  hifl 
projects  against  the  Holy  See  ;  and  his  Chancellor,  Peter  dea 
Yignes,  relates  in  his  letters  that  all  Christendom  seemed  to 
have  entered  it,  and  that,  owiQg  to  this  institntion  and  its 
progress,  the  power  of  heayen  even  in  this  world  became  more 
formidable  and  advantageons  than  that  of  the  earth. 

It  was  in  1221,  the  same  year  in  winch  Bt  Francis  pab> 
lished  the  rule  of  the  third  order,  that  hi^  reiigioAs  were  deci- 
dedly established  in  Germany.  Certainly  they  could  nowhere 
find  more  sympathy  and  encoun^ment  than  that  given  them 
by  the  yonng  and  pious  Dachess  of  Thnringia,  for  we  find  that 
she  showed  them  signi  of  a  sealoos  devotion  and  gave  them 


1   .'  t! 


■«•' 


4 


m 


fttfl    9W    IT.     ILIlAOBTfl, 


•n  the  help  III  hcf  power.  She  hefcmn  by  f(wt;iinr  h  coovmi 
•f  PrnnoinrAns  near  her  chnrch,  in  her  capit»:  ci;/,  Eiacnaeli, 
^n  the  entrance  of  these  friani  into  Qermanj. 

She  afterwards  appointed  m  her  confeaiior  brother  Rodin* 
ger,  one  of  the.finit  Germans  who  emiimccd  the  Seraphic 
rnle,  a  reli^ioiui  dintininiithed  for  hia  leal,  and  who  preaerred 
towards  her  dnrinf?  all  her  life  a  sincere  attachment. 

In  these  new  relations,  all  she  heard  of  St.  Francis  in 
flftmed  her  yonn^  heart  with  an  ardent  admiration  for  him, 
«nd  an  irresistible  attraction  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  this 
eialted  model  of  the  virtues  she  loTed  best.  She  chose  him 
thenceforth  as  her  patron  and  spiritoal  father. 

Havinf(  heard  from  hor  Bew  gncsts  of  the  existence  of  the 
.  fhird  Order  in  Italy,  and  in  the  other  coantries  througii 
which  the  family  of  St.  Francis  had  already  extended,  she 
was  strack  by  the  advantages  which  affiliation  to  it  would 
afford  to  a  fervent  Christian.  She  saw  therein  a  special  con- 
secration given  to  the  mortification  and  other  pious  practices 
which  she  had  imposed  on  herself.  She  hnmbly  begged  permis- 
sion of  her  husband  to  cause  herself  to  be  enrolled,  and  having 
obtained  this  without  difficulty,  she  hastened  to  oontract  this 
%rst  link  with  the  saint,  who  was  so  soon  destined  to  see  her 
Teigning  by  his  side  in  heaven. 

She  Iras  the  first  in  Germany  who  Was  associated  to  the 
Third  Order.  She  observed  its  rule  with  scrupnlous  fidelity, 
«nd  we  may  believe  that  th^  example  of  "  sovereign  placed 
-•0  high  by  her  rank  and  so  renowned  for  her  pietj,  hod  some 
hiflncuce  in  the  rapid  extension  of  this  institution. 

Francis  was  soon  informed  of  the  precious  conquest  hii 
-ffihnionere  Bad  made  in  the  person  of  Elizabeth.  He  learned 
At  the  same  time  her  affiliation  to  the  order,  her  atK'chment 
•to  lllf  person,  and  the  touching  virtues  by  which  she  .4ified 
land  biessed  Thuringia.  He  was  filkd  with  gratitude  and 
wlmintioD,  and  often  ^poke  of  her  to  the  Cardmal  F!roteo(« 


Of  ariroiftT. 


171 


of  bi»  Ofder,  HugoUnn,  nephew  of  Innocent  III.,  tnd  a^er 
%\\riU  ro|)e,  uttder  tbe  name  of  Qrcgorjr  IX.  ThU  latter, 
M  ho  wa«  defltiocU  to  watch  orer  the  safetj  of  Klizubcth  on 
earth  nud  to  consecrate  her  glorj  in  heaven,  already  filt  for 
lirr  an  affectionate  interest,  and  this  feeling  must  hare  been 
iiK  reused  by  the  sympathy  he  nnderHtood  this  young  princes 
(iitiTtulned  for  the  Apostle,  of  whom  he  was  himself  tha 
|.riiicipal  supporter,  as  well  as  the  intimate  and  tender  (Viend. 
Ill-  also  confirmed  Francis  in  his  kindly  feelings  towards  her 
Tliv  excroplai7  humility  of  which  this  yonng  princess  was  a 
ii)(h1(>1,  her  anstere  and  fervent  piety,  her  love  of  poverty, 
often  formed  the  subject  of  their  familiar  discourses.  Ont 
day,  the  Cardinal  recommended  the  saint  to  send  to  the 
I)ucheK8  some  pledge  of  his  affectionate  remembrance,  and  at 
the  same  time  took  from  his  shoulders  the  poor  old  mantle 
wiKfcwith  he  was  clad,  and  enjoined  him  to  transmit  it  at 
0!i:.'e  to  his  daughter  Elizabeth,  as  a  tribute  due  to  the  humil- 
ity and  voluntary  poverty  she  professed,  as  well  as  a  testimony 
of  gratitude  for  tbe  services  she  had  already  rendered  to  the 
Order.  "  I  wish,''  said  he,  "  that  since  she  is  ful!  of  your 
tipirit,  you  should  leave  her  the  same  inheritance  as  did  Elijah 
to  Ills  disciple,  piseus."  The  saint  obeyed  his  friend^  and 
8011 1  to  her  whom  he  had  so  good  reason  to  call  his  daughter 
til  is  modest  present,  accompanied  by  a  letter,  in  which  he 
felicitated  her  on  the  graces  she  had  received  from  God,  and 
the  good  use  she  had  made  of  them. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  the  gratitude  with  which  Elizabeth 
received  ihiA  gift,  so  precious  in  her  eyes ;  she  showed  thii 
by  the  importance  she  attached  to  its  possession.  IShe  dad 
herself  with  it  whenever  she  begged  from  our  Lord  any 
6]>ccial  favour,  and  afterwards,  when  she  renounced  all  pri* 
vate  property,  she  still  found  means  to  preserve  this  de«r 
mantle  of  her  poor  Father  till  her  death,  at  which  time  sIm 
left  it  as  her  moat  precious  treasure  to  a  ftiesd.    It  wat  §i 


\ni 


HP 

*  H  •  \  [ 

m 

S  )  111 


I 


174 


LIFE    or    ST.    XLIIABBTB, 


f 


terwardfl  presefred  with  the  greatest  c«re,  as  a  reHe  doabl^ 
sanctified,  by  the  Teutonic  knights  at  Wesseinfels  in  the  dio* 
cese  of  Spires  ;  and  brother  Berchtold,  a  celebrated  preaebrr 
of  that  age,  related  to  the  judges  on  the  occasion  of  Eliza- 
beth's canonization  that  he  had  often  seen  and  touched  it 
frith  TCLcration,  as  the  glorious  banner  of  that  poverty  which 
had  vanquished  the  world  and  its  vanities  in  so  many  hearts. 
Under  this  banner  Elizabeth  acquired  in  her  secret  soul  t^  > 
strength  requisite  to  accomplish  at  a  later  period  the  brilliant 
victories  which  God  reserved  for  her  over  the  world  and  her 
own  heai't. 

Henceforth,  united  by  a  filial  and  friendly  feeling  to  the 
Seraph  of  Assisium,  she  made  new  progress  on  the  narrow 
and  thorny  path  that  leads  to  eternal  glory — on  that  journey 
which  she  was  to  accomplish  in  so  short  a  time.  Nevertheleg?, 
when  she  had  scarcely  attained  her  seventeenth  ye&r,  the 
good  friar,  Father  Rodlnger,  her  confessor,  who  had  guided 
her  steps  in  the  rule  of  St.  Francis,  left  her. 

It  was  necessary  to  think  of  replacing  him,  and  the  Duke, 
whom  Elizabeth  consulted  in  this  matter,  was  grieved,  be- 
cause she  seemed  to  him  not  to  be  sufficiently  instructed  in 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  religion  ;  so  he- 
wrote  to  the  Pope  and  begged  from  him  a  learned  and  en- 
lightened guide  for  his  wife.  The  Sovereign  Pontiflf  replied 
to  him  that  he  knew  no  priest  more  pious  or  more  learned 
than  Master  Conrad  of  Marburg,  who  had  studied  at  Paris, 
and  who  then  exercised  the  functions  of  Commissary  Apostolic 
in  Germany.  In  a  word,  Master  Conrad  enjoyed  the  highest 
«steem  of  the  Clergy  and  of  the  faithful. 

'  He  joined  to  vast  learning,  morals  of  exemplary  pnrity,  an< 
a  constant  practice  of  evangelical  poverty.    He  had  renounced 
not  only  all  the  temporal  wealth  to  which  the  nobility  of  hia 
birth  entitled  him,  but  even  all  ecclesiastical  dignity  and  bene- 
fioe ;  tliis  caused  him  to  be  set  iown  by  many,  as  a  member  o' 


or    BUMOAST. 


^^ 


one  of  tl  •  mendicMit  orders,  though  it  appears  more  probable 
:ltat  he  remaiaeil  always  a  secular  priest. 

I  [is  exteiior  was  simple,  modest,  and  even  austere,  his  coa* 
tuiue  stiiclly  clerical,  his  eloquence  exercised  a  powerful  iuflu* 
enci?  over  souls,  and  an  immense  crowd  of  priests  and  laymen 
followed  wherever  he  turned  his  steps,  to  gather  from  his  lipt 
the  bread  of  the  divine  Word. 

lie  everywhere  inspired  either  love  or  fear,  according  as 
he  addressed  fervent  Christians  or  people  already  infer.ted 
witti  heresy.  The  great  Innocent  III.  had  confided  to  him 
the  functions  of  Commissary  of  the  Holy  Office  in  Germany, 
with  the  special  mission  of  combatting  the  threatened  pro* 
^M-es8  of  the  heresies  of  the  Vaudois,  of  the  Waldenses,  or 
poor  men  of  Lyons,  and  others  snch,  which  were  then  being 
introduced  into  the  countries  beyond  the  Rhine,  and  which 
proiiiised  to  the  Church  a  repetition  of  the  miseries  of  the 
South  of  France. 

He  was  also  charged  to  preach  the  Crusades,  and  more 
t)i!iii  once  he  roused  the  Germans  from  their  tepidity,  to 
take  part  in  those  sacred  expeditions,  with  an  ardour  and 
constancy  worthy  of  Innocent  himself.  The  two  successors  of 
this  Pontiff,  Honorius  III.  and  Gregory  IX.,  continued  him 
in  these  functiohs,  and  he  rendered  himself  fully  worthy  of 
their  confidence,  by  the  persevering  zeal  and  indomitably 
courage  which  marked  his  career.  During  the  twenty  years 
^t  lasted,  he  allowed  no  opposition,  however  powerful  it 
mii^ht  be,  to  obstruct  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties. 
Neither  princes  nor  bishops,  no  more  than  poor  laymen,  could 
escape  his  severe  justice,  when  they  seemed  to  him  to  deserve 
punishment,  and  we  may  attribute  to  this  absolute  authority 
.he  great  popularity  he  acquired  in  the  exercise  of  the  fre- 
quently painful  functions  of  his  office.  He  fell  a  victim,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter,  to  his  severity,  doubtless  carried  to  ex* 
cess,  since  we  find  the  violent  death  inflicted  by  those  he  pur 


'III- 


ni 


h 


n« 


LTFB    Ot    ST.     ILI£ABCTil, 


laed,  did  not  obtain  for  him  the  high  honotm  granted  by  thf 
Hoiy  See  to  St.  Peter  Parentice  and  to  St.  Peter  of  Verona, 
both  of  whom  died  at  this  time,  like  htm,  martyrs  to  the  faith. 

Conrad,  who  was  doabtless  kiiown  to  Dnke  Loois,  befort 
he  was  specially  recommended  to  him  by  the  Pope,  soon  ir 
pressed  him  with  so  mncb  confidence  and  veneration,  that  V, 
a  solemn  act,  scaled  by  him  and  his  brothers,  he  inTeeted  tliis 
priest  with  the  care  of  conferring  all  the  ecclesiastical  bene- 
fices in  which  he  exercised  the  rights  of  patronage  or  colla- 
tion, on  the  persons  most  worthy  of  them.  This  was  the  best 
reply  he  could  make  to  the  exhortations  which  Conrad  ad- 
dressed to  him  on  the  scrapuloas  care  he  should  use  in  the 
exercise  of  a  right  so  important  to  the  salration  of  souls, 
•'You  commit  a  greater  sin,"  said  this  zealous  preacher  to 
him.  "  when  you  -confide  a  church  or  an  Altar  (that  is  to  say 
a  living  attached  to  the  care  of  an  Altar)  to  an  ignorant  or 
unworthy  priest,  than  if  you  killed  fifty  or  sixty  men  with 
your  own  hands."  Louis  then  begged  him  to  take  charge  of 
the  spiritual  direction  of  his  wife,  and  Conrad  consented,  as 
much  out  of  regard  for  the  piety  of  the  prince,  as  for  the 
recommendation  of  the  Sovereign  pontiff.       « 

When  the  young  Duchess,  who  was  not  yet,  as  we  have 
already  said,  seventeen  years  old,  heard  that  a  man  so  re- 
nowned for  sanctity  and  learning  was  to  have  care  of  her, 
she  was  filled  with  humility  and  gratitude.  She  prepared 
herself  for  what  she  looked  upon  as  a  heavenly  favour  by 
fasts  and  new  mortifications.  She  often  said,  "  Poor  sinful 
wcman  that  I  am,  I  am  not  worthy  that  this  holy  man  should 
have  care  of  me.  My  God,  I  thank  you  for  your  graces." 
When  she  was  informed  of  the  approach  of  Conrad,  she  went 
«Qt  to  meet  him,  and,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees,  said, 
"  My  spiritual  Father,  deign  to  receive  me  as  your  child  in 
€lod.  I  am  unworthy  of  yon,  but  I  reconraiend  myself  U 
fou  oare  through  the  lore  yon  bear  to  my  brother.* 


OT    BUirOAKY 


in 


Conrad,  feeing  in  this  profoand  bamililj  la  a  joong  aii4 
p<iwerfal  princess  a  ioreshadowing  of  the  futore  glory  of  her 
goul,  could  not  help  crying  oat,  "O,  Lord  Jesus,  what  wonden 
you  work  in  the  soals  that  belong  to  yon  t*^ — and  he  sereral 
times  erincod  the  joy  this  meeting  afforded  him.  He  *3ecanie 
lier  confessor  from  this  period,  and  devoted  himself  with  his  » 
accustomed  zeal  to  the  cnltnre  of  this  precions  plant,  whoso 
growth  he  was  charged  to  rear  for  heaven.  Very  soon,  the 
iiii^tinct  of  the  spiritual  life  became  so  strongly  developed  in 
Elizabeth,  and  her  aspirations  towards  the  highest  perfection 
became  so  freqaent,  that  Conrad  found  her  one  day  (and  this 
he  wrote  hhnself  to  the  Pope)  in  tears,  and  regretting  that 
her  parents  had  destined  her  to  marry,  and  that  ttins  she  was 
not  free,  in  passing  through  this  m<>riul  life,  to  preserve  the 
flower  of  her  virginity  to  offer  it  to  God.  One  of  her  iiisto- 
rians  remarks,  that,  notwithstanding  these  feelings  inspired 
by  lier  fervour,  her  tender  and  ardent  love  for  her  husband 
was  by  no  means  lessened.  And  Louis,  so  far  from  arresting 
her  progress  in  the  life  in  which  C-ocrad  engaged  her,  gave  it 
his  best  assistance.  He  unhesitatingly  permitted  her  to 
promiso  entire  ol)edience  to  all  her  confessor  prescribed,  that 
would  not  interfere  with  the  just  authority  and  rights  of  mar- 
riage. She  added  a  vow  of  perpetual  liastlty,  in  case  she 
should  ever  become  a  widow.  She  made  these  two  vows  in 
the  year  1225,  in  the  presence  of  Master  Conrad,  in  the  church 
belonging  to  the  nuns  of  St.  Cati:<  rine  at  Eisenach,  whom  she 
loved  particnlarly.     She  was  at  this  time  eighteen  years  old. 

Elizabeth  observed  the  vow  of  obedience  with  the  ntmost 
fidelity,  and  with  that  unreserved  humility  that  never  left 
ber ;  and  she  cheerfully  offered  to  God  the  sacrifices  t!;at 
eost  her  most.  We  have  seen  with  what  scrupulous  exact* 
Qcss  she  submitted  to  the  restrictions  imposed  upon  her  by 
Master  Conrad  relative  to  the  vhiuds  nsed  at  the  ducal  table, 
which,  as  we  have  before  mentioned,  he  thought  that  the  poii 
8* 


Ml! 


if  r 
I :- 


ITI 


LIPS    OV    8T.     BLIZABITH, 


people  were  unjastly  taxed  to  provide.  Faithful  to  the  irv 
flexible  rigour  of  his  character,  and  looking  upon  her  as  he 
would  upon  any  other  Christian  soul,  he  by  no  means  sought 
to  lighten  the  yoke  she  had  voluntarily  assumed  ;  and  ho 
thenceforth  treated  her  with  a  severity  which  could  but 
augment  her  merit  in  the  sight  of  God.  One  day  he  sent 
for  her  to  come  and  hear  him  preach,  but,  at  the  time,  site 
was  engaged  with  her  sister-?* n-law,  the  Margravine  of  Misnia, 
who  bad  come  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  she  did  not  comply  with 
bis  invitation.  Annoyed  at  her  disobedience,  and  for  her 
having  lost  the  indulgence  of  twenty  days  granted  by  the  Pope 
to  all  who  should  assist  at  his  sermons,  he  sent  her  word  that 
thenceforth  he  would  renounce  all  care  of  her  soul.  The  next 
morning  she  went  to  him,  and  begged  him  most  earnestly  to 
recall  this  harsh  resolution,  and  to  pardon  her  fault  He  re- 
fused her  at  first,  rudely ;  at  length  she  threw  herself  at  \m 
feet,  and,  after  supplicating  for  a  long  tine  in  this  posture,  she 
obtained  his  forgiveness ;  but  he  imposed  a  severe  penance  on 
her  and  her  maids  of  honour,  to  whom  he  imputed  a  share  in 
her  disobedience. 

There  remains  to  us  a  precious  memorial  of  the  spiritual 
lirection  which  Conrad  exercised  over  his  illustrious  peni- 
tent, in  the  twelve  maxims  which  he  gave  her,  as  the  sum- 
mary of  her  rale  of  life  :  these  the  chroniclers  have  carefully 
preserved. 

We  transcribe  them  exactly,  as  being  at  once  the  faithful 
expression  of  the  motives  that  thenceforward  governed  her 
life,  and  as  the  i)redictions  or  foreshadowinsjs  of  that  glorious 
destiny  which  she  so  rapidly  and  completely  fulfilled  : 

1.  Patiently  endure  contempt  in  the  midst  of  voluntary 
poverty. 

2.  QItc  humility  the  first  place  in  your  heart. 

8.  Rer  ounce  human  consolations  and  the  pleasures  of  tbi 


or  acxoAtr. 


lf» 


4.  Be  merciful  in  all  thingB  to  jour  Deighboar. 

5.  Have  always  the  remembraooe  of  God  enshrined  in  jour 
acnrt 

0.  Ketum  thanks  to  the  Lord  for  having  bj  his  Passion  ro* 
deeiiM}d  jou  from  hell  and  iroiD  eternal  death. 

7.  Smve  God  has  done  so  macU  for  jou,  bear  the  Crots  ]>»>  "^ 
iiently. 

8.  OonMC/ate  jonrself  entirely,  body  and  sr^al,  to  Qod. 

9.  Recall  trcquently  to  your  mind  that  you  are  the  work 
of  tlie  hands  of  God,  and  act,  couseqnently,  in  such  a  manner 
as  will  ensure  you/  being  with  Him  for  eternity. 

10.  Pardon  in  yoor  neighbour  all  that  yon  desire  that  he 
ehonld  forgive  in  you  ;  do  for  him  all  that  you  would  wish  he 
Bhould  do  for  you. 

11.  Often  think  ot  the  shortness  of  life,  and  that  the 
young  die  as  well  as  the  old ;  ever,  then,  aspire  to  eternal 
life. 

12.  Incessantly  bewail  yorjr  liiis,  and  pray  Qod  to  fsigiTa 
them. 


w 


m 

Mm 


180 


LIFI    Of    ST.    ILIIABITB, 


CHAPTER  XI. 

■OW  TBI  LORD  WAS  k>LEASBD  TO  MAmrSST  DIS  fllUCV  S  fU 
PEBSON  OF  THB  DEAR  SAIMT  ELIZABETH. 


,    *4 


"  low  BHMII  till,  DofBila*,  flortpit  ante  te  sleat  intam.** 

After  having  thas  traced  the  general  features  of  tlie 
eharacter  of  Klik.abeth,  daring  ali  the  time  of  her  anioii  with 
Duke  Loais,  we  must  return  to  the  early  years  of  her  married 
life,  to  relate  some  of  the  incidents  which  varied  its  aniform- 
ity,  and  which  were  at  the  same  time  touching  proo&  of 
God's  favour  to  His  servant. 

In  1221,  a  short  time  after  her  nuptials,  King  Andrew, 
her  father,  who  had  assumed  the  Cross  some  years  before, 
and  who  had  just  returned  from  a  glorious  expedition  in 
Jilgypt,  learned  from  a  creditable  source  that  his  daughter 
had  been  married,  and  was  now  really  Duchess  of  Thuringia. 
To  be  better  assured  of  this  fact,  he  ordered  four  great  l  >q 
of  his  court,  who  wer<i  going  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  to  return  by  Thuringia,  and  to  bring  him  exact 
accounts  of  his  daughter — of  the  kind  of  life  she  led,  of  the 
state  of  her  court,  and  the  country  she  inhabited — and  to 
invite  her  to  come  to  Hungary,  accompanied  by  her  husband, 
to  rejoice  her  father's  old  age,  for  he  was  most  anxious  to  see 
them  both. 

These  nobles,  after  having  accomplished  their  pilgrimage 
to  Aix-la-Ghapelle,  took  the  route  to  Thuringia,  instead  of 
that  of  Francouia,  and  soon  arrived  at  Wartburg.  Tht 
Landgrave  received  them  with  kindness,  bat  he  just  remem 


Of    BVll«Aftr. 


181 


borod  that  Mfl  wife  had  no  robes  fit  to  itppcar  in  before  htr 
(riiots,  as  flhe  had  dread jr  cot  her  wedding  gannenta  into 
frTins  more  suited  to  her  modesty,  ana  that  there  was  not 
time  to  order  new  ones.  Full  of  uneasiness  on  this  account, 
III  went  to  her  chamber,  and  said,  *'  Ah,  dear  sister  I  here 
liare  |)eople  just  arrived  from  thjr  father's  court ;  I  am  sure 
t)i(y  have  come  to  learn  what  manner  of  life  thou  loadest 
with  me,  and  to  see  if  thou  hast  really  the  retinue  of  a 
PiK  liess.  But  how  canst  thou  appear  before  them  ?  Thou 
art  so  continually  occupied  with  thy  poor  ones,  that  thou 
foru'cttest  thyself;  and  thou  never  wishest  to  wear  other 
clotliis  than  those  miserable  enough  to  make  us  both  ashamed. 
What  dislionour  to  nie,  when  these  men  will  go  and  tell  in 
Hungary  that  I  let  thee  want  for  raiment,  and  that  they 
found  thee  in  so  pitiable  a  state,  aad  now  I  have  no  time  le|t 
to  order  others  more  suitable  to  thy  rank  and  mine.^ 

I>iit  she  replied  gently,  "  M^  dear  lord  aad  brother,  lot 
not  tliis  disquiet  thee  ;  for  I  have  earnestly  resolved  never  U) 
plui  e  my  glory  in  my  apparel.  I  can  well  excase  myself  to 
tliese  lords,  and  I  will  endeavour  to  treat  them  with  such 
gaiety  and  affability,  that  I  will  please  theui  m  much  as  if  I 
wore  the  richest  vesture.'^  Immediately  she  krelt  and  begged 
God  to  make  her  agreeable  to  her  friends,  and  then  having 
dressed  herself  as  well  as  she  could,  slie  went  to  jo;i:  hex  )mar 
band  and  her  father's  ambassadors. 

Not  only  did  she  enchant  them  by  the  cordiality  of  bw 
welcome,  the  sweetness  and  gentleness  of  her  manners,  by  h^ 
beauty  that  shone  with  a  surpaiBsing  brilliancy  and  freshnesfl, 
nut  to  the  great  surprise  of  the  Duke  and  to  the  admiration 
of  the  strangers,  she  a]:^&rod  clothed  in  magnificent  silken 
rohes  and  covered  with  a  mantle  of  azure  velvet  embroidered 
with  pearls  of  great  price.  I'he  Hungarians  said  that  tke 
Queen  of  France  could  not  be  more  gorgeously  attired,  ilfter 
i  sumjktuoas  festival  the  Duke  endeavoured  to  retain 


■P 


i: 


iimu 


i  > 


'V,ll 


iH 


U 


^} 

im 


168 


Liri    OF    tT.    ILISABrTR, 


gQcstd,  bat  thej  excnsed  themselves  sajing  that  thctr  con^ 
panion-pilgrims  eoald  not  awBit  them  longer.  He  then  \\n\ 
down  with  them  to  the  city,  defrayed  all  the  expcnseb  incurreti 
by  their  foilowers.  Aid  •ceompanied  them  a  certain  distance  on 
their  journey. 

When  he  retamed  he  went  qnickly  to  his  wife,  and  a^kcd 
her  anxiously  how  came  she  to  be  thus  clad.  Elizabeth  reitlcd 
with  a  sweet  and  pioos  smile,  "  Behold  what  the  Lord  can  do 
when  lie  pleases.'' 

Several  authors  r'  late  a  different  version  of  this  miradr. 
They  say  that  when  the  virtues  of  Elizabeth  were  noisfd 
abroad,  a  powerful  lord  (according  to  some  it  was  the  Emperor 
himself)  was  travelling  througlf  the  dominions  of  the  Land- 
grave. The  latter  went  to  meet  him,  and  wished  to  receive 
him  at  his  castle.  But  the  stranger  refused  to  accept  the  in* 
vitation,  anless  the  Duke  promised  that  he  should  see  ar.d 
speak  to  the  Duchess.  Louis  cheerfully  consented  to  this,  and 
brought  the  noble  visitor  to  Wartburg.  After  a  great  ban- 
quet the  guest  reminded  his  host  of  his  promise.  Louis  sent 
word  to  Elizabeth,  who  was  in  her  chamber  praying,  and  re 
quested  her  to  come  and  speik  to  them.  But  according  to 
her  custom  she  had  given  all  her  clothes  and  jewels  to  the 
poor,  so  she  sent  secretly  to  her  husband  and  begged  him 
humbly  to  excuse  her  for  that  time  as  she  had  not  robes  fit  to 
appear  in  before  his  guests.  Tho  stranger  "till  insisted  ;  Louig 
arose  from  table  and  went  himself  to  ask  her  to  come,  and 
at  the  same  time  reproved  her  gently  for  not  having  obeyed 
him  at  once.  "  My  dear  lord,''  answered  she,  "  J  will  go  and 
do  as  you  will,  for  it  would  be  wrong  of  me  to  contradict  you 
in  any  thing  ;  I  am  yours,  my  lord,  I  have  been  givttn  to  you. 
I  have  always  loyally  obeyed  you,  and  henceforth  I  will  al>u 
do  your  will,  for  after  God,  you  are  my  lord." 

Then  when  he  went  out,  she  fell  on  her  knees  and  said, 
''Lord  Jesus  Christ,  most  clement  and  faithful  Father,  swutt 


»'-      OF    BUNOART. 


988 


Consoler  of  the  poor,  and  of  all  who  are  in  trottble,  friend  and 
ktiru  lii>I|H?r  of  all  who  trast  in  Thee,  come  to  tht'  assiatancit 
of  thy  poor  servant  vrho  haa  despoiled  hersi^lf  of  uU  her  rich 
rniiiuiit  for  the  love  of  TUec."  Immediately  an  angci  ap» 
j )  iind  and  said  to  her,  "  O  noble  spouse  of  tho  ling  of 
Tiirailisc,  behold  what  God  mndh  thee  from  heaven  saluting 
theo  with  tender  affection  ;  thou  sbalt  invest  thyself  with  thif 
utaitt!o,  and  thou  shalt  place  on  thy  head  this  crown  as  a  sign 
of  thy  eternal  glory."  She  thanked  God,  put  on  the  crown 
ami  nmutlo,  and  went  to  the  banquet  hall.  On  seeing  her  so 
ri(  hly-robed  and  beautiful,  all  the  guests  were  wonder-stricken, 
for  iier  face  shone  like  that  of  an  angel.  She  sat  in  the 
niiilst  of  them  and  saluted  them  with  cordiality  and  gaiety, 
then  .«he  spoke  to  them  with  words  sweeter  than  honey,  in  such 
bort  that  they  felt  themselves  more  nourished  by  her  dis- 
course than  by  all  the  dainties  of  the  feast  The  stranger, 
eiiciuiiitcd  at  having  seen  this  Elizabeth  whom  he  had  so  long 
(lisired  to  know,  took  his  leave  ;  the  Duke  accompanied  him 
a  part  of  the  way,  and  then  quickly  returned  to  his  wife  and 
Hsked  whence  had  she  such  royal  attire.  She  could  not  con- 
ceal it  from  him.  "Truly,"  said  he,  "our  God  is  indeed 
wonderful  1  There  is  pleasure  in  serving  so  bounteous  a  mas- 
ter wlio  come  so  faithfully  to  the  assistance  of  his  own  ;  for  my 
part  i  wish  to  be,  henceforth  and  for  ever,  more  and  more  hifl 
servant." 

In  the  following  year  (1222),  according  to  the  invitation 
hrought  in  his  name  by  the  ambassadors  of  King  Andrew, 
Duke  Louis  accompanied  Elizabeth  to  Hungary.  He  con* 
lidnd  the  care  of  his  territories  during  his  absence  to  the 
( Omits  de  Muhlberg,  de  Gleichen,  and  others.  He  was  at* 
tended  on  the  journey  by  Counts  de  Htolberg,  de  Schwarta- 
liiiiif  de  llesenburg,  de  BeUihlingen,  and  a  crowd  of  nobles, 
luiiOM^rst  wliom  we  remark  Rodolplie  dM  Varila,  son  of  th« 
Lord  Gaultier  who  bad  brought  Elliiabeth  from  Hungar| 


mm 


ijji*  ' 


vm 


LI7B    OF    ST.    lllBAVITir, 


I 


doven  yt^m  hefoTf*,  and  who  eaoceeded  htt  father,  not  c^U  ii 
hiB  office  of  great  cap'boarcr,  bat  •liio  in  his  toffti  dcvoti  ti 
the  Diiclx  <t.  Elizabeth  was  attended  by  the  wWen  of  all  tht 
lordi  we  ImTe  meotioiied,  and  by  a  grrat  namber  of  nol  le 
dames  Itid  muideiit. 

King  Andrew  receiTed  hif  daughter  and  his  ton-in-law  -iritb 
lively  joy  ;  they  remained  a  long  time  at  hi«  coart,  and  assistf^d 
at  many  festivals  and  tournaments,  io  which  *^^e  Thnriii<rian 
knights  distinguished  themselves  partiuularl  ,  Tliey  w^re 
also  present  at  King  Andrew's  marriage  wi^a  Tolandu  de 
Ooartenay,  daughter  of  the  French  emperor  of  Oonstantinoplp, 
whom  he  chose  as  hie  second  wife.  On  this  occasion  the  king 
loaded  them  with  presents,  and  gave  them  predous  stones  of 
the  greatest  value.  All  the  knights,  and  their  ladles,  and  a!{ 
the  attendants,  even  to  the  lowest  domestics,  received  rich 
gifts.  He  had  also  constructed  a  wagon  of  peculiar  form,  to 
eontain  all  the  gold  and  jewels  his  daughter  was  to  bring  buck 
with  her. 

Boforo  the  time  of  departure,  the  king  gave  a  great  hnnt- 
inir  i.>«rtv,  knowing  that  Duke  Louis  loved  the  chase.  Aftor 
this  the/  separated,  and  the  Duke  brought  back  his  wife, 
together  with  his  suite,  and  bis  new  riches,  happily  to 
Thnringia. 

Soon  after  this  time,  the  Duke  gave  fits  sister,  the  beauti- 
ful Agnes,  companion  of  Elizabeth's  childhood,  in  marriage  to 
Henry,  Duke  of  Austria,  and  whether  for  this  occasion  or  to 
celebrate  his  own  return  to  his  dominions,  he  gave  a'  Wartr 
burg  a  great  feast,  to  which  he  invited  all  the  coii*4s,  and 
the  leading  nobles  of  his  duchy,  with  their  wives.  As  they 
were  going  to  table,  they  remarked  the  absence  of  the  7  ^chess, 
who  bad  not  come,  according  to  custom,  to  wash  h^  hands 
with  her  gaests.  They  all  declared  they  would  not  cP*Qmence 
■ntil  the  Duchess  came. 

Jlieaiiwhile  Elieabetb,  In  oomkig  from  the  char&>  *o  thi 


or  auMOAftr. 


189 


hni;r|i:ei  h«U,  saw  lying  on  the  lUir  ttepi  a  poor  mat)  almoiit 
it.ik.d,  tind  looking  lo  lick  aud  weak  that  aht  wa«  aiituui)»kcd 
hi)w  liu  bad  Btreogth  eooagb  to  ascend  from  tiio  city  to  tba 

Wiieo  he  perceif  ed  her,  he  begged  aome  almi  In  honour  of 
(i.ri^t.  She  answered  (hat  «be  had  iM>t  at  that  time  anything 
to  >,Mv«,  but  that  she  would  send  him  some  food  from  her 
tal)le.  But  the  poor  man  insisted  loudly  that  she  should  give 
Ihiii  something  at  once  )  and  the  DucbcM,  conquered  by  her 
pity,  look  off  the  precious  silker  >tlc  with  wluch  sho  was 
covered,  and  threw  it  to  the  The  latter  took  it, 

rolkd  it  up  hastily,  and  disuppea  iiutcly.     Elizabeth, 

who  })ud  now  but  her  robe  witlu.ui  iho  mantle,  (which  was 
entirely  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  time)  dared  not  enter 
the  banquet-hall,  but  rnturued  to  her  chamber,  where  she  r^ 
eoiiiinended  lierself  to  Qod.  But  the  scueschal,  who  hud  seen 
all  tlmt  had  passed,  went  at  ouce  to  relate  it  to  tho  Duke  b^ 
fdHi  all  his  gucHts.  "  i>ecide,  ray  lord,"  said  he,  "if  what  our 
luost  <kur  lady  the  Duchess  has  just  done  is  right.  Whilst 
so  many  nobles  are  here  awaiting  her,  she  is  occupied  ia 
clothing  the  poor,  and  has  just  giren  her  mantle  to  a  beggar* 
man."  The  good  Landgrave  said  smilingly,  "  I  will  go  aud 
»>e(  what  this  means,  and  she  shall  come  to  us  immediately.* 
Then,  quitting  his  guests  for  a  moment,  he  went  to  Elizabeth 
and  said,  "  Beloved  sister,  wilt  thou  not  come  aud  dine  with 
us  ?  wc  should  have  been  long  since  at  table  if  we  had  not 
awaited  thee."  "  I  am  quite  ready  to  do  all  thou  wiliest,  my 
beloved  brother,"  answered  she.  "Then,"  said  the  Duke, 
'•  wliere  is  the  mantle  thou  hadst  when  going  to  the  Church  V* 
"  I  have  given  it  away,  my  good  brother,"  said  Elizabeth, 
"  but,  if  it  is  pleasing  to  thee,  I  will  go  as  I  am."  At  theat 
words,  one  of  her  waiting  women  said  to  her,  **'Madam, 
when  coming  here  I  saw  your  mantle  hanging  in  its  place  in 
the  wardrobe,  I  will  go  and  bring  it  to  you^"  and  she  immof 


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diately  returned  with  tuO  tame  mantle  tbe  poor  man  liai) 
taken  awaj.  Elizabeth  kuelt  a  moment,  and  thanked  Oinj 
hastily,  then  she  went  to  the  feast  Kith  her  htMbniid 
Whilst  all  the  gnests,  ^nd  particularly  the  Duke  of  Aiistra 
and  his  yonng  wife,  were  enjoying  themseWeA,  the  Landgrart 
Louis  was  serious  and  recollected,  for  he  thought  in  his  luart 
of  the  numerous  graces  that  God  had  conferred  on  his  dear 
Elisabeth. 

'*  Who  can  doubt,''  says  one  of  her  pious  and  simple  histo 
iians,  "but  that  it  was  an  Angel  that  brought  back  the  ronn. 
tie,  and  that  it  was  Christ  himself  who  took  the  form  of  a 
poor  naked  man  to  try  his  well  beloved  servant,  as  He  did 
formerly  the  glorious  St.  Martin  ?  Thus  did  He  adorn  Hia 
dear  flower,  Elizabeth,  this  lily  of  purity  and  fiiith,  more  than 
Solomon  in  all  his  glory."  ' 

'  But  God  granted  to  this  noble  and  pious  couple  a  grace 
itill  sweeter  and  more  dear  to  their  hearts.  The  most  pre- 
cious blessings  of  the  married  life  could  not  be  refused  by  tho 
Almighty  to  these  spouses,  who  afforded  to  all  the  model  of 
a  Christian  union.  He  gave  to  his  faithful  servant  the  gift  of 
l^uitfulness,  as  it  were,  to  recompense  even  here  below  tlie 
purity  of  her  soul  and  body.  In  1223,  Elizabeth  being  then 
sixteen  years  old,  became  a  mother  for  the  first  time.  At 
the  approach  of  her  lying-in  she  was  removed  to  the  Castle 
of  Crentzbnrp:,  on  the  Werra,  some  leagues  from  Eisenach, 
where  she  was  far  more  tranquil  than  at  Wartbnrg,  which 
iras  the  centre  of  the  political  administration  and  government 
of  the  country.  She  was  also  nearer  to  her  husband,  who 
had  gone  to  hold  the  meeting  of  the  States  of  Hesse,  at  Mar- 
burg. Several  noble  ladies  came  to  assist  and  to  watch  by 
her  night  and  day.  On  the  28th  March,  three  days  after  tlie 
Annunciation  of  our  Lady,  she  brought  forth  her  first-born. 
Hie  Duke  had  not  been  able  to  leave  Marburg,  and  it  was 
there  announced  that  a  ton  was  bom  to  him.    Louis,  over 


r.-f 


OV    HV««4BT. 


M 


jo;0(1,  richly  rewarded  the  miesecnger,  and  set  oal  at  ot.ce  to 
r<-joiii  the  joaoj^  mother ;  be  arrived  time  enough  to  see  the 
iliilil  baptized,  and  gafe  him  the  mime  of  Hermann,  in  m» 
niory  of  his  father.  To  manifest  the  satisfaction  which  th* 
birth  of  this  son  c&osed  him,  Louis  had  a  stone  bridge  erected 
to  replace  the  wooden  one  that  led  to  the  dtj  of  Creati*, 
buri;.  This  bridge  still  exists,  with  a  beaatifal  Qothie 
chapi'l  dedicated  to  St.  Liborios.  A  year  after,  1224,  tha 
Diuhess  ga?e  birth  to  a  daughter,  who  was  named  Sophii^ 
after  the  Duchess-dowager.  This  child  was  bom  at  WarV 
l)urir,  from  which  the  Duke  did  not  wish  Elizabeth  to  remove. 
It)  after  years  she  was  married  to  the  Duke  of  Brabant ;  and 
the  members  of  the  present  house  of  Hesse  are  reckoned 
ainon<^t  her  descendants.  Elizabeth  had  two  other  daugh- 
ters, one  named  also  Sophia,  and  the  third,  born  after  her 
father's  death,  Qertrude — both  were  consecrated  to  Qod 
from  the  cradle,  and  afterwards  took  the  veil  as  spouses  of 
the  Lord. 

Faithful  in  all  things  to  the  humility  and  modesty  she 
had  prescribed  for  herself,  Elizabeth  as  scrupulously  pre* 
served  these  virtues  in  the  midst  of  the  joys  of  her  maternity 
08  slie  had  done  in  the  magnificence  of  her  sovereignty. 

After  each  of  her  confinements,  as  soon  as  the  moment  of 
her  recovery  arrived,  instead  of  making  it,  as  was  the  cu» 
toin,  the  occasion  of  feasting  and  worldly  rejoicing,  she  took 
her  new-bom  infant  in  her  arms,  went  out  secretly  from  the 
castle,  clad  in  a  phiiu  woollen  robe,  and  barefooted,  and 
diroeted  her  steps  towards  a  distant  church,  that  of  St. 
Ciitlierine,  outside  the  walls  of  Eisenach.  The  descent  waf 
loii?  and  toilsome,  the  path  covered  with  sharp  thorns,  bj 
which  her  feet  were  torn  and  bruised.  On  the  waj  she 
herself  carried  her  infant  as  the  spotless  Tirgin  had  done. 
When  arrived  at  the  church  she  laid  it  on  the  altar,  with  a 
taper  and  a  kunb,  saying,  "  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  yon  and  tt 


tin    99   at.    BKIlAaBTB, 


i 


1;  fj 


fcm  dear  Mother  Mary,  I  ofl^  thfai  elieriihed  froit  of  my 
wonb.  Behold,  my  God  and  my  Lord,  I  gire  it  with  all  mi 
heart,  such  ai  yoa  ha?e  giren  it  to  me ;  to  jon  who  arc  tli« 
MTereign  and  most  loving  Father  of  the  mother  and  the 
oHild.  The  odIj  prayer  I  make  yoa  te«day,  and  the  only 
grace  I  dare  to  reqaeet,  it  that  it  may  pleaae  yoa  tc  rtceiv« 
this  little  child,  all  bathed  in  my  teari,  into  the  number  of 
your  wrranti,  and  yomr  fHenda,  and  to  ghv  it  your  Loli 
hoBedietioor 


i 


•V   BVtfftABt 


m 


CHAPTER  XH 


mom  tarn  dokb  kouu  raarwcm  bb  mob  raoPbB 


*IAMilktt  |«Bp«rMi  » 


•OiM« 


4m:  taialMMl' 
npliuun."— A.  1U>  11* 


•Indntwcft  jatttttoai  ferki^  at  fdMsaattotai 
■Mads  olUonii,  «t  opertos  cat  qoaal  paltto  mN. 
"Qals  cfB  Dotniniu,  dfilgeot  Jadteium  tt  odlo 

I1L8L 


In  the  Urea  of  these  holy  spouses,  all  tends  to  demonstratB 
to  us  the  deep  sympathy  which  united  them,  and  how  worthy 
they  were  of  each  other.  We  have  seen  the  Duchess  employ- 
ing all  the  energy  and  ingenious  tenderness  <^  her  soul,  io 
solacing  the  woes  of  the  unhappy  who  came  within  the  sphere 
of  her  labours^  we  have  now  to  sho^v  how  Louia  oonse- 
crated  his  courage  and  military  talents  to  the  defence  of  tha 
interests  of  the  people  whom  God  committed  to  his  caroi 
The  innate  love  of  justice  that  we  have  already  mentioned  aa 
one  of  his  leading  virtues,  endowed  him  with  so  de^p  a  senaa 
of  the  rights  of  his  subjects,  and  so  generous  a  sympathy 
for  them  when  their  just  privileges  were  invaded,  that  these 
sole  motives  frequently  urged  him  to  distant  and  expensiv<i 
expeditions,  the  provocations  to  which  profoundly  astonbhed 
his  neighbours  and  his  vassals.  Thus  in  1225  the  Puke 
learned  that  some  of  bis  subjects  who  traded  with  Poland 
tnd  the  other  Sclavonian  nations,  were  attacked  and  robbed 
Dear  the  castle  of  Lnbantsk,  or  liUbitz,  ia  Poland.  He  re- 
qaested  the  Duke  of  Poland  to  make  restitution  to  these  ui|> 
fortanates,  and  this  was  refuted. 

Then  he  convoked  for  the  Feast  of  the  Dispersion  of  tkt 


m 


LIFI    07    BT.    SLISABITB, 


r  ' 

1 

1-1 


Apostlcflf  (io  the  ancient  calendara  this  is  marked  for  15th 
July),  a  considerable  army,  consisting  of  Hessians,  Thorio. 
gians,  Franconians,  and  the  Knights  of  Osterland.  He  lid 
this  army  secretly  to  the  banks  of  the  Elbe,  without  annouiio 
ing  his  intentions.  Arrived  at  Leipsic,  he  was  joined  by  the 
Saxon  lords  of  his  Palatinate,  and  several  armed  men  of 
Misnia — for  he  was  guardian  to  his  nephew,  the  young  Mar- 
grave of  that  province.  Then  did  he  declare  to  them  that  he 
purposed  gomg  into  Poland  to  besiege  the  castle  of  Lubantsk, 
and  to  revenge  the  injury  done  to  his  poor  subjects.  This 
caused  great  astonishment  amongst  his  followers,  who  could 
upt  understand  why  he  would  undertake  so  much  for  an 
alTair  between  common  merchants.  As  he  would  not  change 
bis  purpose  on  account  of  their  remonstrances,  many  of  thqm 
wished  to  withdraw,  bat  shame,  and  perhaps  a  fear  of  hia 
severity,  retained  them.  They  were  then  obliged  to  follow 
him  to  Poland,  which  he  entered  at  the  head  of  his  army, 
preceded  by  three  thousand  five  hundred  chosen  men  as 
pioneers,  who  arrived  at  Lubantek  three  days  before  him. 
They  bunded  the  city  and  besieged  the  castle  whilst  awaiting 
him.  The  Dnke  of  Poland  was  extremely  surprised  to  leara 
that  the  Landgrave  of  Thnring^  had  come  such  a  distance 
at  the  bead  of  so  powerful  an  army  to  invade  his  country, 
and  sent  him  offers  of  pecuniary  satisfaction  ;  but  Louis  re- 
ptilsed  them,  saying,  that  these  terms  should  have  been  made 
when  he  wrote  in  a  friendly  manner,  before  he  took  the  field, 
as  he  did  not  now  wish  to  let  so  long  a  journey  go  for 
nothing.  Then  having  arrived  before  Lubantsk,  he  eagerly 
pressed  the  siege.  The  Polish  prince  sent  a  bishop  to  address 
to  him  new  and  powerful  representations.  This  bishop  told 
him  that  he  should  not  forget  that  the  Poles  were  also 
famous  warriors,  and  that  if  be  did  not  return  without  delay, 
the  Duke  of  Poland  would  come  on  the  following  Mondaj 
irith  his  army,  and  exterminate  aU  the  Germani. 


OF    RUVVART. 


-m 


To  this  Um  LandgrtTe  repUod,  that  he  would  be  delighted 
to  luake  acquaiutance  with  the  Dake,  and  that  be  wooM 
reitiAin  eight  days  after  the  appointed  Monday,  to  we  what 
lort  of  people  were  these  Poles. 

But  neither  the  Duke  nor  his  Poles  appeared,  j^ftei 
lonie  assaults  the  Castle  surrendered,  and  Louis,  after  razinfi 
it  to  the  ground,  returned  home,  leaving  throughout  all  easl> 
ern  Germany  the  most  favourable  opinion  of  his  justice,  coo- 
ragc,  and  love  of  the  p  'opie. 

Some  time  after  the  Duke  took  the  field  for  a  cause  which 
lecincd  still  more  insignificant ;  but  this  incident  gives  us  sd 
just  an  idea  of  the  goodness  and  popularity  of  his  character, 
afi  well  as  of  the  manners  of  the  age,  that  we  shall  relate  it  ia 
detail. 

Two  or  three  years  before,  at  the  annual  fair  at  Eisenach. 
as  the  Duke  descended  to  the  dty,  and  amused  himself  ia 
looking  at  the  shops  and  the  stalls,  he  saw  a  pedlar  who  had 
but  a  very  small  pack,  containing  thimbles,  needles,  spoons, 
leaden  images,  and  little  ornaments  for  women.  The  Duke 
asked  him  if  he  were  able  to  make  a  Uvelihood  out  of 
this  traffic  "Well,  my  lord,^  replied  the  pedlar,  ^'I  am 
ashamed  to  beg,  and  I  am  not  strong  enough  for  manual 
labour ;  but  if  I  could  only  go  in  safety  from  city  to  city,  I 
could,  with  God's  blessing,  earn  a  living  with  this  little  trader 
and  even  inanage  so  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  it  would  be 
worth  as  much  more  as  it  was  at  the  beginning.'' 

The  good  Duke,  touched  with  compassion,  said  to  himj 
**  Well,  I  will  grant  thee  a  passport  for  a  year  ;  thou  shall 
pty  neither  taxes  nor  duties  throughout  the  extent  of  my 
dominions.  How  much  is  thy  pack  worth  1"  **  Twenty  shil- 
lings/' said  the  pedlar.  "  Give  him  ten  shillings,''  said  the, 
Prince  to  Iris  treasurer,  who  accompanied  him,  **  and  make 
him  out  a  passport  with  my  seal  affixed."  Then  turning  t» 
wards  the  pedlar  he  $aid  to  him,  ''I  widi  to  engage  m  hatf" 


m 


hlWm    or    ST.    ■LrSABITB, 


i 

.■  1 


of  tbj  boiitMi;  promiie  me  tbol  thoa  wDt  bt  a  fiiltliftil  part 
ner,  »tid  I  will  keep  thee  from  all  hann."  The  poor  pedlai 
wag  orerjoyed,  and  went  hii  way  with  fbU  ooafideooe  of  rimv 
rcRs.  On  the  retarn  of  the  new  jear,  be  came  to  meet  hit 
noble  aaaoeiate  at  Wartbnrg,  and  showed  him  hit  pack, 
which  was  much  enlarged.  The  Landgrave  took  some  little 
•Mtters^  which  he  gave  to  hie  ier?anta  On  each  New  Tear*! 
daj  the  pedlar  returned  to  Wartburg  to  inform  the  Princ« 
of  the  state  of  hin  funds,  which  soon  became  so  considerable, 
and  his  wares  so  many,  that  he  coald  no  longwr  carry  them 
on  his  back  ;  so  he  pnrchased  an  ass,  mode  two  bales  of  hit 
merchandise,  and  each  time  performed  jonmeys  longer  and 
pore  profitable. 

Now  it  happened  that  towards  the  end  of  the  year  1225, 
the  pedlar  went  to  Veoioe,  and  pnrehased  there  a  quan* 
tity  of  rare  and  preoions  matters^  laigo  rings,  bracelets  and 
brooches,  orowna  and  diadems  of  jewels,  cope  and  minon  oi 
Uunty^  knives,  adders'  tongoee,  rosaries  of  coral,  kf^  And  m 
he  was  preparing  to  retnm  to  Thuringia,  in  order  to  be  at 
Wartbnrg;  as  was  his  wont,  on  New  Year's  day,  he  arrived 
•t  Wnrtjaborg  in  Franconia,  where  he  exposed  his  wares  for 
sale.  Certain  Franeonians,  who  came  to  inspect  them,  saw 
many  ornaments  which  they  would  be  glad  to  have  to  present 
to  their  wives  and  friends,  but  without  paying  for  them.  So 
Ihny  watched  for  the  pedlar's  departure,  and  went  some 
distacce  from  the  city  to  lie  in  ambush  fbr  him ;  as  he  passed 
they  roshed  upon  him,  and  carried  oiT  hit  ass  and  his  mer- 
ahandisok 

It  was  in  vain  that  he  d&owed  them  the  passport  granted 
by  the  Landgrave  of  Thuringia ;  they  laughed  at  it,  and  were 
going  to  bind,  him,  to  bring  him  away  with  them,  and  it  was 
with  dificttlty  he  escaped  from  their  hands.  He  went  io 
sadness  to  Eisnnach  to  seek  his  sovereign  and  associate,  and 
9Med  to  him  his  miiAirtnna.    '<  My  dear  partner,*  aaid  ths 


,1|T     OF  Biir«ARr. 


Ml 


good  prince  raiiliDg,  "  be  not  so  troubled  at  the  \<m  of  our 
goods ;  have  a  little  patience,  and  leave  ma  the  care  of 
fteking  them."  Immediately  he  couf okcd  the  coonts,  knights, 
•nd  .squires  of  the  neighboarhood,  and  e?en  the  peasants,  who 
fought  on  foot,  pat  himself  at  their  head,  entered  withoal 
diliiy  into  Franconia,  derastating  the  conntry  to  the  g^tesof 
Wiirtzbarg,  inquiring  eTcrywhere  for  his  ass.  On  hearing 
of  this  iA^asion,  the  Prince  Bishop  of  Wnrtzbnrg  sent  to  ask 
him  what  he  meant  by  such  coniduct  The  Duke  replied  thai 
be  was  seeking  a  certain  ass  of  his  which  the  bishop*s  nsen  Lad 
BtolcD.  The  prelate  had  restitution  made  to  him  at  once  fof 
the  ass  and  the  baggage,  and  the  good  Duke  returned  home 
triumphant,  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  poor  people,  whoso 
tealous  defender  he  was. 

But  whilst  he  was  thus  occupied  he  receired  from  tha 
Emperor  Frederic  II.  an  inritation  to  join  him  in  Italy.  He 
6et  out  immediately,  and  crossed  the  Alps  before  the  end  of 
winter.  He  went  with  the  Emperor  through  all  the  campaign 
agaiust  the  Bolognese,  and  the  other  insurgent  cities,  and 
was  at  the  great  Diet  of  Cremona  in  1226. 

The  Emperor  was  so  satisfied  with  his  courage  and  devotion 
that  he  granted  him  the  investitiire  of  the  Margravate  of 
Misnia,  in  case  the  posterity  of  his  sister  Judith,  widow  of  tho 
late  Margrave,  became  extinct,  and  also  that  of  all  the  country 
he  could  conquer  in  Prussia  and  Lithuania,  whither  he  ente^ 
(aincd  the  project  of  going  to  extend  the  ChristiMi  fiidth. 


Lua 


%H 


%i\ 


* 


f^ 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


yf 


^ 


i 


5 

■ 

i 

!        ' 

■OW  A  aUAT  rAMINI  DSTA8TATKD  TnUKIHOU,  AND  HOW  fBI  Dlil 
n.  BLUBABSTII  PRAOTISBD  ALL  THB  WOIIKS  OF  MSRUJ. 

**lnirtv1,  al  4«dittto  nllil  iimda«u«;  %MrU  et  dadlttla  nilhl  bllert;  boapM  rr»m 
•I  «oll«fMla  in«;  niidiu,  ct  eoopcrnlstto  m*;  lBlnnii%  H  vMtaMls  w*  la  aarcffi 
«aa,«tvralttiBadaM."   AifattnT.J 


SoARCBLT  had  the  Duke  set  out  under  the  imperiAl  banner, 
when  a  frightful  famine  overepread  all  Germany,  and  pArti<;u- 
larly  ravaged  Thuringia.  The  famished  people  were  reduced 
to  the  greatest  extremities ;  the  poor  went  out  into  the  fields 
and  forests,  and  to  the  waysides,  in  search  of  roots  and  wild 
fruits,  such  as  were  usually  the  food  of  animals.  They  de- 
roured  dead  horses  and  asses,  and  even  the  most  unclean 
beasts ;  a  great  number  of  these  unfortunates  died  of  hunger, 
and  the  roads  were  covered  with  their  bodies.  At  the  siirlit 
of  so  much  misery,  Elizabeth^s  heart  was  filled  with  piiy. 
Henceforward  her  only  thobght,  her  only  occupation,  by  night 
and  by  day,  was  the  relief  of  her  unhappy  people.  The 
castle  of  Wartburg,  where  her  hui^band  had  left  her,  became 
the  source  of  boundless  charity,  whence  flowed  unceasingly 
inexhaustible  benefits  to  the  population  of  the  neighbourhood. 
She  began  by  distributing  to  the  indigent  of  the  duchy,  all 
the  ready  money  in  the  ducal  treasury,  which  amounted  to 
the  enormous  sum,  for  that  time,  of  sixty-four  thousand 
golden  florins ;  these  were  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of  certaio 
properties. 

Then  she  caused  all  her  husband's  granaries  to  be  <4>ened, 
and  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  the  officers  of  tbt 


OV    a.llOART, 


loe 


lioiischold,  ihtt  gare  all  the  grain  thcj  contained,  without  anj 
K-sci-ve,  to  the  poor.  There  was  so  moch  in  store,  that  ao* 
coriliiig  to  contemporary  writers,  to  boy  the  quantity  of  corn 
ihiis  disposed  of,  the  two  greatest  castles,  and  several  -ciUea 
of  the  duchy  should  be  put  in  pledge.  Blixabeth  knew  how 
to  unite  prudence  with  this  boundless  generosity.  Instead  of 
gi\iii^  out  the  com  in  great  quantities,  in  which  it  might  bo 
wasted,  she  diitribated  erery  day  to  each  person  the  portion 
requisite  for  sustenance. 

Id  order  to  aToid  all  unnecessary  expense,  she  had  every 
day,  as  much  bread  baked  at  the  castle  as  all  its  o/ens  could 
contain,  and  this  she  served  with  her  own  hands  to  the  poor. 
Nine  hundred  persons  came  daily  to  be  fed,  and  departed 
laden  with  her  alms.  But  there  were  many  more  whom 
weakness,  illness  and  infirmity  hindered  from  ascending  tho 
mountain  on  which  the  ducal  residence  was  situated,  and  it 
was  for  these  that  Elizabeth  redoubled  her  care  and  compaa* 
lion  during  those  awful  times.  To  the  weakest  she  daily 
carried  the  remains  of  her  repasts  aud  those  of  her  maidensi 
and  their  scanty  meals  were  almost  untasted  through  *  fear  oi 
lesseniDg  the  share  of  the  poor.  In  the  hospital  containing 
twenty-eight  beds,  which  she  had  founded  midway  on  the  as- 
cent to  the  castle,  she  placed  the  sufferers  who  required  her 
immediate  care ;  and  she  had  it  so  organized,  that  no  soonef 
iras  one  poor  person  dead,  than  his  bed  was  immediately  occa 
pied  by  some  newly-admitted  patient. 

She  established  two  almshouses  in  the  city  of  Eisenach 
one  for  poor  women,  under  the  invocation  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
near  the  gate  of  St.  George ;  another  under  that  of  St  Ann, 
ibr  the  sick  in  general    The  latter  exists  to  this  day. 

Twice  every  day  without  fiiil,  at  morn  and  at  eventida^ 
tie  young  Duchess  descended  and  reascended  the  toilsome 
road  from  Wartburg  to  these  houses,  regnixllesa  of  tha 
fatigue  she  thereby  enduredi  in  order  that  she  might  visit  ^' 


IM 


tIFI    OV    ST.    BLItABITR, 


r 

il 


|. ' 


peer  onef,  sod  rsrrj  to  tbeai  all  that  wodd  bt  Meftil  fm 
Iheir  manU.  When  arriTed  at  thaae  niijrlana  of  miicry,  t^ht 
aaed  to  ^o  from  bed  to  bed,  Mkliig  all  what  thej  wialied  for, 
Ad  iierforming  for  each  lerfiixs  the  mott  repolsire,  with  i 
acal  and  tcndernesn  which  the  lofe  of  Qod  and  hia  npceiiU 
grace  otone  could  inspire.  She  fed  with  her  own  baodi  tlio^e 
whoie  maladies  were  moit  aerere ;  ahe  made  their  beds, 
railed  and  carried  them  oo  bar  back,  or  in  her  armi,  to  I:iy 
them  on  other  coaclies  ;  ahe  washed  their  facea  with  her  own 
reil,  and  did  all  with  a  gaietj  and  amenity  that  nothin;,' 
BOold  alter.  Thongh  she  had  a  natural  repognance  to  hud 
air,  and  it  was  generally  most  trying  to  her,  alill  she  would 
^main  in  the  midst  of  the  mephitic  atmosphere  of  the  sick 
wards,  even  during  the  summer  heats,  without  expreasing 
the  slightest  dislike,  thongb  her  attendants  could  not  endure  it, 
bat  often  murmured  loudly. 

Elizabeth  founded  in  one  of  these  hospitals  an  asylum  fur 
deserted  children,  or  oiphans;  these  were  the  objects  of  lier 
special  tenderness,  and  she  lavished  on  them  the  most  alfeo 
tionate  care.  Their  little  hearts  soon  understood  how  sweet  a 
mother  the  Lord  had  deigned  to  give  them  in  their  misery. 
Whenever  she  came  amongst  them  they  ran  to  meet  her,  and 
clung  to  her  garments,  crying  out,  Afamma /  Mamma/  Siio 
used  to  have  them  sitting  around  her,  and  used  to  distribute 
little  presents  to  them,  and  examine  the  state  of  each  one. 
She  testified  particular  affection  and  pity  for  those  most  de- 
formed or  repubive,  by  taking  theoi  on  her  knees  and  fondly 
caressing  them. 

Elizabeth  waa  not  only  the  benefactresa  of  these  pooi 
people,  but  also  their  firiend  and  confidant.  One  poor  sick 
man  related  to  her  privately  that  his  conscience  waa  bmrtbened 
with  the  remembrance  of  a  debt  he  owed.  She  quieted  him 
by  promising  to  discharge  it  herself,  which  she  immediately 
^.   Tha  time  that  she  could  spare  from  the  9*iperiateadaviS 


Of   BOVSAAV, 


Itf 


it  (hMe  hotp^Ult  she  cnplojed  io  fUiing  th«  toburbt  of 
'A'lirtburg,  in  diitribaiiug  profiiioui  and  ittutance  to  tht 
(KK)r  who  could  uot  come  to  the  cafltle,  in  •ntchog  tkc  poo 
ivst  cubing,  and  perforniiug  for  their  imnatef  officoa  the  loworA 
gild  iD08t  beoeath  her  rank.  One  day  iha  went  into  the  hot 
of  a  side  womuD  who  wat  alone,  and  who  begged  plaintif  elj 
fur  80tae  milk,  sajing  that  she  had  not  Boflicient  itrengtb 
to  go  and  milk  her  cow ;  immediately  the  honible  princcM 
entered  the  stable  aud  set  about  milking  the  cow,  but  the 
aniiual,  little  accnstomed  to  be  touched  by  such  delicate 
buiiils,  would  not  permit  her  to  aooompliah  her  benefolent 
uitentiou. 

Elizabeth  loved  to  attend  the  poor  in  their  agony,  in  order 
to  asHuage  their  pains,  to  receive  their  last  sigh  with  a  kiss  of 
liuterly  charity,  to  pray  to  Qod  fervently  during  entire  hoort 
to  sanctify  their  deaths,  aud  to  receive  their  souls  into  Ilii 
glory.  She  most  faithfully  continued  her  custom  of  watching 
the  obsequies  of  these  lowly  ones  ;  and,  notwithstanding  the 
increase  of  mortality,  she  was  seen  continually  following  their 
remains  to  the  grave,  after  seeing  tliem  enveloped  in  cloth 
woven  by  her  own  hands  for  this  purpose,  or  else  chosen  from 
her  owp  garments,  as  she  frequently  cut  up  the  large  white 
veil  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of  wearing.  She  could  ao| 
bear  that  the  rich  should  be  buried  in  new  or  expensive 
shrouds,  but  ordered  that  their  grave-clothes  should  be  old 
or  coarse,  and  that  the  difference  in  value  between  them  an4 
tbc  new  should  be  given  to  the  poor. 

Neither  did  poor  prisoners  escape  her  solicitude.  She 
▼isited  them  wherever  she  heard  of  such  being  confin%Nl ;  with 
money  she  delivered  those  detained  for  debt ;  she  cleansed 
and  anointed  the  wounds  produo^d  by  the  chains  on  thf 
others ;  and  then,  kneeling  by  their  sides,  she  would  with 
them  beg  Qod  to  watch  oy]^,,«j^  ^  {ffeserve  them  from  a| 
fature  pain  or  pnniihmeBt 


1»6 


IIFB    OV    ST.    BLISABBTB, 


All  these  occapations,  so  calculated  to  fill  the  soul  with 
fatigue,  disgust,  aod  impatience,  insptrwd  her  with  celestial 
peace  and  joy  ;  whilst  she  poured  forth  on  her  poor  brethreo 
the  riches  of  her  charity,  her  heart  and  mind  were  frequeutlj 
elevated  to  the  Lord,  and  her  benevolent  occupations  were 
often  interrupted  to  say  to  Him  aloud  :  "  0  Lord,  how  can 
I  sufficiently  thank  you  for  having  given  me  cause  to  gather 
together  these  poor  ones,  who  are  your  dearest  friends,  and  to 
permit  me  to  serve  them  myself  And  one  day  as  she  made 
this  ejaculatory  prayer  in  the  hospital,  the  patients  thonght 
they  saw  an  angel  appearing  and  saying  to  her,  "  Rejoice, 
Elizabeth,  for  thou  also  art  the  friend  of  God — thou  shinest 
before  his  eyes  like  the  moon." 

Other  wonderful  signs  seemed  to  proTe  to  simple  and  faith* 
ful  souls  how  agreeable  to  God  were  the  charity  and  humility 
ot  this  princess.  One  day  when  she  had  bought  in  the  oit^ 
some  earthen  vases,  and  several  kinds  of  rings,  and  toys  of 
glass  for  her  class  of  poor  children,  as  she  returned  to  the 
castle  in  a  carriage,  the  awkwardness  of  the  driver  caused  the 
vehicle  to  overturn,  and  it  fell  from  a  rock  on  a  heap  of  stones ; 
yet  Elizabeth  was  not  hurt,  nor  was  one  of  the  toys  which  she 
earned  broken.  She  immediately  brought  these  presents  to 
her  little  charge,  to  gladden  them. 

Another  time,  as  she  carried  in  her  apron  some  food  to  a 
groip  of  mendicants,  she  saw  with  uneasiness  that  she  had 
uot  a  sufficient  quantity  to  give  some  to  each,  and  that  every 
moment  more  supplicants  arriTed.  She  then  began  to  pray 
interiorly  while  distributing  the  food,  and  fonnd  that,  accord* 
ing  as  she  gave  pieces  away,  they  were  replaced  by  others, 
■0  that  after  giving  each  beggar  his  share  there  was  stiU  lome 
left.  She  returned  to  the  castle,  singing  with  her  companions 
Ihe  praises  of  God,  who  had  deigned  to  communicate  to 
her  hi»  all-powerful  virtue  according  to  his  formal  promise : 
"  Amen,  amen,  I  say  to  you,  he  that  believeth  in  me^  the  workt 


IM 


Ikat  I  dit,  he  aUo  thaii  h,  and  grtakr  Aon  iktte  $haU  h$ 
dor'—t'L  John  xiT.  12. 

It  n  AS  not  only  on  the  people  in  the  neighbourhood  of  hef 
rcsi(len<e  that  Elizabeth  layished  her  care  and  love.  The 
inhabitants  of  even  the  most  distant  p>*rts  of  her  husband's 
doiuiuic  18  were  equally  the  objects  of  her  sorereigu  and  ma> 
ternal  solicitude.  She  gave  express  orders  that  the  revenuef 
derived  by  Duke  Louis  from  Thuringia,  Hesse,  the  Palatinates 
of  S  ixe  and  Osterland,  should  be  exclusively  consecrated  to 
the  1  elief  and  support  uf  the  poor  whom  the  famine  had  left 
with  jut  resources,  and  watched  the  exact  execution  of  this 
order,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  the  officers  of  the 
D\ike.  Yet  to  satisfy  still  further  for  the  want  of  her  pei^ 
tonal  care,  which  distance  prevented  her  from  rendering,  she 
sold  all  her  jewels,  precious  stones^  and  valuable  articles,  and 
distributed  to  them  their  price.  These  regulations  were  coi^ 
tinued  until  the  harvest  of  1226 ;  then  the  Duchess  assembled 
all  the  poor  who  were  able  to  work,  men  and  women ;  she 
gave  tb  3m  new  clothes  and  shoes,  that  their  feet  might  not 
be  wounded  or  torn  by  the  stnbble  in  the  fields,  and  set  them 
ill  to  labour.  To  all  those  who  were  not  strong  enough  to 
work,  she  distributed  clothes  which  she  had  made  or  purchased 
for  this  purpose.  She  made  this  distribution  with  her  own 
bands,  ind  bade  these  poor  ones  an  affectionate  farewell, 
giving  ilso  to  each  a  small  sum  of  money ;  and  when  her 
money  f  liled,  she  took  her  veils  and  silken  robes,  and  divided 
tbem  ajaongst  the  women,  saying  to  them,  "  I  do  not  wish 
that  yoa  should  retain  these  matters  for  dress,  but  that  yoQ 
should  %11  them  to  satisfy  your  wants ;  and  also  that  y^q 
should  labour  according  to  your  strength,  for  it  is  written^ 
'  Tha '.  he  who  toorku  not,  eait  noL"  **  Qui  no  i  IcAorai  non 
mui  dutety 

\  poor  old  woman,  to  whom  the  Duchess  had  given  % 
ihesif  e,  shoes,  and  a  cloak,  was  so  r^oiced,  that,  after  crying 


ftiri    OF    8T.    BLIfABKTB, 


•at  that  she  was  neTer  so  happy  hi  her  Hfe,  she  spooned 
awajr  as  one  dead.  The  good  Elizabeth  hastened  to  ruiai 
her,  and  reproached  herself  as  having  sinned  in  endaogermg 
by  her  imprudence  the  life  of  this  woman 

We  haTe  visited  with  a  tender  respect  and  scrupoloos  cart 
the  place  which  was  the  centre  of  a  charity  so  inexhaustible, 
a  devotion  so  heavenly  We  have  followed  over  the  rugged 
pathways  trodden  by  the  feet  of  the  indefatigable  friend  of 
the  poor ;  for  a  long  while  did  we  contemplate  the  magniG* 
cent  scenery  visible  from  the  height  of  Wartburg,  thinking, 
meantime,  that  the  blessed  eyes  of  Elizabeth  had  also  during 
the  greater  part  of  her  life  looked  npon  this  vast  extent  of 
country,  and  glanced  upon  it  all  with  a  ray  of  that  love  which 
has  neither  its  origin  nor  its  recompense  in  this  world. 

Alas !  the  monuments  founded  by  this  royal  lady  have  all 
perished ;  the  people  forgot  her  when  they  lost  the  faith  of 
their  fathers ;  some  names  alone  have  been  retained,  and 
these  preserve  for  the  Catholic  pilgrim  the  traces  of  the  be 
loved  Saint. 

Even  in  the  csstld  of  Wartburg,  the  remembrance  of  Lu< 
ther,  of  pride  revolted  and  victorions,  has  dethr^ed  that  ol 
the  humility  and  charity  of  Elizabeth ;  in  the  ancient  chape) 
where  she  so  often  prayed,  the  traveller  is  shown  the  pulpit 
of  the  proud  heresiarch.  But  the  site  of  the  hospital  which 
she  had  erected  at  her  palace-gates,  that  she  m'ght  never 
fbrget  human  miseries  in  the  splendour  of  her  rank,  has  been 
left  to  her  and  pi*e8erves  heir  name.  An  hundred  years  after 
her  de^th,  ita  1881^  the  hospitfkl  ^as  replaced  by  a  convetit  of 
Fninciscans,  founded  in  her  honour  by  the  Landgrave  Fred- 
crick  the  Serious,  At  the  Reformation  it  was  suppressed, 
ittd  the  seventeen  other  convents  and  churches  of  Eisenach 
wore  destroyed  and  pillaged  in  one  day,  whilst  the  priests  and 
itioiiks  walked  two  and  two,  chaunting  the  Te  Deum,  heed 
llii  of  the  clamour  cf  the  populace.    The  foondation  of  th« 


«T    HURQAmT. 


9M 


Benefactress  of  the  coQDtry  was  not  more  respected,  end  the 
itoues  of  it  were  employed  to  repair  '    ^  fortifications  of  the 

« 

wife  tie. 

But  there  remains  a  fountain  of  pmt  and  sparkling  water, 
6o\uDg  into  a  massive  basin  hoUowed  pat  of  the  rock,  witn- 
oiit  any  ornament  saving  the  wild  flowers  and  greensward 
siirronndiof  it.  This  was  where  EJisabetli  washed  4h«  liasii 
of  the  poor,  and  it  is  still  called  "Elizabelh^i  Founlain.^  Ail 
aroand  is  a  bashj  plantation  which  hides  this  place  from  the 
greater  nomber  of  the  passers-by ;  there  are  also  some  traces 
of  a  surrounding  wall,  and  the  enclosure  is  called  by  the  peo- 
ple ''Mizabeth'a  Garden." 

Further  still  to  the  east,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  oa 
which  Wartbourg  is  built,  between  it  and  the  ancient  Car- 
thusian monastery,  consecrated  to  our  Saint  in  1304,  may  be 
fieen  a  lovely  valley  watered  by  a  peaceful  stream  running  in 
the  midst  of  fields  variegated  with  ro^es  and  lilies ;  the  banks 
are  shaded  by  venerable  oaks,  remains  of  the  ancient  forests 
of  Germany.  In  one  of  its  windings  there  is  a  secret  acd 
lonely  spot  wherein  is  a  poor  cabin,  and  where  formerly  thero 
was  a  chapel  It  was  here  Elisabeth  received  the  poor, 
Qod's  friends  and  hers  ;  it  was  here  she  came,  tender,  ing»> 
nious,  indefatigable,  by  hidden  pathways  through  the  woods, 
laden  with  provisions  and  other  aid,  to  save  them  the  pain  of 
ascending  the  toilsome  road  to  the  castle,  and  also  to  ,prevoi|t 
the  remarks  of  men.  Thi3  solitigry  spot  |s  still  called  the 
^'Field  of  LiUes;''  this  humble  cabi^  the  *' Btpotfi  nf  *M 
?0Qt^  and  the  valley  formcrij  bore  the  sweet  bmm  of 
"*  £UBabeth*s  ValltgJ' 


•tif.. 


Lira    OF    It.    ILlSABItBa 


\ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


■ow  tmn  unm  rkturivkd  to  his  wira,  akd  now  ns  mmviin 

TftUB  JVSnCB  TO  BI8  0£AB  MONU  OF  RBTNHABTSBEUn . 

Confldit  In  M  oor  tM  mL— Prov.  xzxi  fl. 

**  In  tribna  plucituni  eet  spiritul  meo.    Ooaeardlt  fratram,  ct  amor  pros-inona, 
tl  Tir  et  mailer  bene  sibi  consentienteik**— Jbo<M.  xxt.  1,  %. 


Louis,  informed  no  doabt  of  the  woes  that  afflicted  hia 
people,  demanded  and  obtained  permission  from  the  I  mperor 
to  return  to  his  dukedom.  He  set  ont  on  the  23d  of  Jane, 
1226,  and  arrived  at  Cremona  on  St.  John's  eve,  just  as  the 
people  were  kindling  \he  fires  on  the  surrounding  heights. 
After  haying  happily  crossed  the  Alps,  he  took  up  his  quar- 
ters with  a  prince,  not  named  by  historians,  but  who  was  hia 
near  relative  and  friend.  He  was  received  with  ceremony 
and  magnificence  ;  and  after  snperb  feasting,  with  music  and 
singing,  he  was  conducted  to  his  sleeping-chamber,  where  the 
prince,  anxious  to  test  the  virtue  of  his  guest,  had  placed  a 
young  woman  of  extraordinary  beauty.  But  the  young  duke 
said  immediately  to  his  faithful  attendant,  the  lord  de  Tarila, 
''Take  away  thi^  young  woman  quietly,  and  give  her  a  mark 
">f  silver  wherewith  to  buy  a  new  mantle,  that  want  ma^*  not 
i^^ain  urge  her  to  expose  herself  to  sin.  I  say  unto  thee  in 
all  sincerity,  that  even  if  adultery  were  not  a  sin  before  God, 
uora  scandal  in  the  eyes  of  my  fellow  men,  I  I'.ould  never 
consent  to  it,  solely  through  love  for  my  dear  Klizabeth,  and 
fear  of  saddening  or  troubling  her  soul.'' 

The  next  morning,  as  the  prince  jested  with  him  on  thii 
•object,  Louis  replied,  "Enow,  my  cousin,  that  to  obtain 
7* 


OF    BUXlART. 


8<NI 


the  whole  Roman  empire  I  would  not  commit  mich  a  sin." 
Then  coatiuoing  bis  journey  he  arriTed  at  Angsboorg  on  the 
2(1  July ;  here  he  remained  fifteen  days  to  recommend  the 
cause  of  Henry,  son  of  the  Emperor,  to  the  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
and  to  obtain  his  consent  to  receive  this  young  prince  at  his 
court.  Having  succeeded  in  this,  he  set  out  for  Thnringia 
and  passed  the  Mein  at  Schweiufurt,  where  he  was  received 
v^ith  great  honour  by  the  burgesses  ;  but  after  supper  he  was 
warned  that  Count  Poppin,  his  deadliest  enemy,  intended  to 
(surprise  and  attack  him  during  the  night.  To  avoid  this 
diinger  he  set  out  immediately,  travelled  all  night,  and  arrived 
at  Wartbnrg  next  day,  which  was  on  Friday  about  the  hour 
of  Nones. 

The  news  of  the  approach  of  the  beloved  prince  had  filled 
all  Thurlngia  with  immense  joy  The  famine-stricken  saw  in 
the  return  of  their  father  and  generous  protector,  hope  for  the 
termination  of  their  woes.  His  mother,  his  young  brothers 
were  gladdened,  but  the  joy  of  Elizabeth  surpassed  that  of  all 
the  others.  It  had  been  the  first  prolonged  absence  of  the 
husband  so  dear  to  her,  who  alone  understood  and  sympa- 
thised with  all  the  aspirations  of  her  soul  to  Qod  and  towards 
a  still  more  perfect  life.  She  alone  also  fathomed  the  depth 
of  his  soul's  riches,  whilst  the  rest  of  mankind  attributed  to 
him  failings  and  passions  like  to  the  other  princes  of  his  time. 
The  prmcipal  officers  of  his  household,  particularly  the  Se- 
neschal and  the  Marshal,  fearing  the  anger  of  their  lord, 
when  he  should  have  learned  the  use  that  had  been  made  of 
his  treasures  and  provisions,  went  out  to  meet  him,  and  de* 
Dounced  to  him  what  they  denominated  the  reckless  expendi- 
ture of  the  Duchess;  how  she  had  emptied  the  granaries  o( 
Wartburg,  and  used  all  the  money  left  in  their  care,  notwith* 
standing  their  eflforts  to  prevent  her.  These  complaints  hut  ir- 
ritated the  Duke,  and  he  spoke  to  them  thus :  *'  Is  my  dear  wife 
well !  that  is  all  I  care  to  know,  the  rest  matters  not  T    Then 


104 


Lii'B    or    8T.    BLIKADRTH, 


m 


^1 


b«  added,  **  I  wish  that  you  would  allow  niy  good  little  Ei)7j» 
beth  to  give  as  muoh  alma  aft  the  pleaftcft,  and  that  yoo  woul^i 
rather  assist  than  contradict  her ;  let  her  give  aa  much  as  sin 
wisbet  for  Ood's  sake,  provided  ouly  that  th%  leaves  me  Eise< 
nacli,  Wailburg,  and  Naumburg.  Gkxl  will  return  the  rest 
wlun  he  thinks  it  good.  We  shall  never  be  impoverished  l>j 
alrr.s-iJccds." 

He  then  hastened  to  meet  his  beloved  Elizabeth.  When 
she  saw  hira  her  joy  was  boundless ;  she  threw  herself  into 
his  arms,  and  kissed  him  a  thousand  times  with  her  lips  and 
in  her  heart.  "Dear  sister,'^  said  he,  while  he  held  her  in  iiis 
embrace,  "  what  has^  become  of  thy  poor  people  daring  this 
bad  year  V  She  replied  gently,  "  I  have  given  to  God  what 
belonged  to  Him,  and  God  has  taken  care  of  what  belonged 
to  thee  an-]  to  me.'' 

Tradition  adds,  that  as  the  Duke  passed  with  her  through 
his  great  hall,  he  saw  corn  flowing  in  under  all  the  doors,  so 
that  they  walked  npon  it.  Then  having  sent  the  Seneschal 
to  see  whence  it  came,  the  latter  replied  that  the  presses  were 
80  full  of  com  that  the  grain  ran  over  and  cohered  the  ground. 
Then  Louis  and  his  wife  blessed  God.  The  lord  de  Tarila 
then  came  to  the  Duchess  and  related  whAt  had  happened  at 
the  prince's,  where  her  husband's  fidelity  had  been  put  to  the 
proof.  She  immediately  knt..,  and  said,  **  Lord,  I  am  not 
worthy  to  have  so  good  a  husband  ;  but  aid  us  both  to 
observe  thr  sanctity  of  marriage,  so  that  we  may  live  eter- 
nally in  Thy  presence." 

No  sooner  had  he  returned  to  his  dominions,  than  thia 
noble  and  pious  prince  occupied  himself  in  considering  the 
Interests  of  his  subjects.  Whilst  he  watched  with  prudence 
and  intelligence  over  the  impcrtant  negotiations,  with  which, 
notwithstanding  his  extreme  youth,  the  Emperor  intrusted 
him,  he  hiA  always  his  sword  at  hnnd  to  protect  the  lionki 
■od  the  poor. 


Even  while  lerring  as  a  niedifttor  between  the  Kmperar 
an  i  Ottoc&r,  King  of  Bohemia,  and  treating  uf  a  marriage 
iM'ivvecn  the  danghtcr  of  this  soTereign  and  Henry,  the  young 
king  of  the  Komans,  he  went  throngh  his  dominions  to  dit* 
rover  and  to  repair  any  wtonge  committed  towards  the  po^ 
poople  during  his  absence.  BeTeral  nobles  of  Ostertand, «  bo 
lind  oppressed  their  tmmiIs  and  disturbed  the  public  peaoa, 
took  to  flight  on  hearing  of  his  coming ;  he  occupied  their 
fiistles,  and  completely  destroyed  those  of  Suits  and  Kal- 
iKMiriick.  * 

Louis  Went  as  soon  as  possible  to  visit  his  dear  monks  of 
Uejnhartsbrunn.  The  Abbot  complained  to  him  that  a 
neighbouring  lord  Of  Saltza  had  profited  of  his  absence  to 
usurp  possession  of  a  piece  of  ground  belonging  to  the  mona^ 
tory,  on  the  mountain  called  Aldenberg,  which  governs  the 
valley  wherein  the  monastery  was  situated,  and  tha^  he  had 
'tliereon  built  a  fortification  from  which  he  continually  annoyed 
the  religions  and  their  people.  It  was  on  Saturday  evening 
that  Louis  arrived  and  heard  this  complaint.  He  wrote  at 
once  to  the  Seneschals  of  Wartbnrg  and  Eisenach  to  come 
and  bring  with  them  their  armed  men  and  scaling-ladders,  to 
meet  him  at  the  convent  next  morning  before  light. 

At  the  dawning  of  Sunday  morning  he  beard*  a  low  mass, 
and  told  the  Abbot  not  to  carry  his  cross,  nor  to  permit  high 
mass  to  be  sung  nntil  his  return  ;  then  he  mounted  his  horse, 
headed  his  soldiers,  and  conducted  them  at  once  to  the  battle- 
field. The  surprise  was  complete,  the  walls  were  scaled,  aad 
tlie  lord  of  Saltza  himself  taken  prisoner.  The  Duke  had 
hini  brought  on  foot  to  the  Abbey.  As  soon  as  they  arrived 
tlic  cross  Wds  carried  out,  and  the  usual  procession  for  mail 
formed,  #btHlt  the  usurper-knight  and  his  soldiers  were  led  li 
ehains  before  the  cross.    The  chanter  entoned  the  vene  s    ' 


t 
.i 


toe 


LI] 


li.? 


tod  all  the  religious  responded — 

•*Ib  toMblo  vMotls  inui  dtqiMiM  tahnloM  toMi* 

After  Moss,  the  Duke  made  the  lord  of  Saltza  swear  thai 
ko  would  renooDce  every  ulterior  proceeding  against  th« 
■onastery,  and  then  he  released  him,  after  giving  orders  to 
have  the  castle  he  had  taken  that  morning  immediately  razed 
to  the  ground. 

The  good  prince  dreaded  putting  the  monastery  to  anj 
expense  on  his  account ;  he  established  a  kitchen  and  a 
larder  for  the  use  of  his  attendants  when  he  made  any  delay 
ihere  ;  and,  when  g^ing  away,  he  always  took  care  to  have 
as  much  provision  left  behind  as  supported  the  convent  for 
three  days.  But  on  the  Sunday  of  the  expedition  against 
the  lord  of  Saltza,  the  Abbot  prayed  him  to  take  his  repast 
with  him,  and  provided  a  rich  and  abundant  feast.  Wlieo 
rising  from  table,  Louis  took  his  treasurer  aside,  and  desired 
that  a  large  recompense  should  be  given  on  this  occasion. 
This  officer  sought  the  monks  to  give  them  the  money,  but 
they  refused  positively  to  take  it,  "  as  was  fitting  conduct  for 
well-bom  religious,''  says  the  almoner  who  has  left  us  the 
recital  of  this  scene.  "  Dear  lord  treasurer,"  said  they,  "all 
that  we  can  do,  poor  monks  that  we  are,  is  at  the  disposal  of 
our  good  prince,  not  only  to^ay,  but  every  time  he  desires 
anything;  but  we  will  not  take  his  money.''  The  treasurer 
insisted  no  longer,  but  set  out  with  the  Duke.  When  they 
were  half-way  to  Eisenach,  Louis  turned  to  him,  and  asked 
how  he  had  fulfilled  his  orders.  The  treasurer  related  all 
that  had  passed,  upon  which  the  Duke,  quite  irritated,  snid, 
"  Since  thou  didst  not  pay  for  what  I  bought  with  my  money, 
thou  must  pay  it  with  thine  own."  And  the  poor  man  was 
obliged  to  return  to  Reynhartsbrunn,  and  to  pay  fh>m  his 
own  purse  even  to  the  last  farthing. 

A  little  time  after,  the  Abbot  of  the  same  monastery  made 


o^  aos«ABT. 


S07 


ktionn  to  Loafs  that  certain  honourabit  pt^ypU  of  Franconia 
iiad  carried  away  from  htm  a  hogshead  of  whie  and  six  horses. 
The  Dulce  sammoned  them  to  make  immediate  restitution  of 
the  stolen  goods ;  and  as  his  command  was  suffered  to  remain 
niiheeded,  he  entered  Franconia  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
ravaged  the  possessions  of  the  gp^iltj  partj,  and  obliged  th« 
latter  to  come  in  their  shirts,  with  ropes  around  their  necks, 
nil) I  barefooted,  to  make  an  apology  at  the  conrent.  He 
n liiiscd  them,  after  making  them  agree  to  send  to  the  monks 
a  great  quantity  of  the  best  wine  and  seyeral  good  horses. 

About  this  time  there  was  held  a  great  court,  or  assembly 
of  princes,  at  Mersebourg,  to  which  the  nobles  of  Misnia,  Sax- 
ony, and  the  Brandenburgian  provinces  repaired.  Those  ol 
if  sse  and  Thuringia  also  went  there,  guided  by  the  examplr ' 
of  their  Duke  Louifs  who  brought  with  him  his  Elisabeth  ac- 
companied by  a  numerous  court  One  circumstance  whicl 
well  depicts  the  manners  of  the  age  renders  this  meeting  re 
markable. 

A  Thuringian  knight,  renowned  for  his  valour  and  pietj. 
Walter  de  Settlcstoedt,  a  friend  of  Louis,  and  one  of  the  officers 
of  his  household,  followed  his  sovereign ;  ho  brought  with 
him  a  maiden  of  rare  beauty,  mounted  on  a  superb  palfrey, 
with  a  good  falcon  on  her  wrist 

On  the  journey  he  stopped  after  every  three  miles  to  joust 
aprainst  all  comci^s,  on  condition  that,  if  he  was  unhorsed,  his 
victorious  adversary  should  carry  off  his.  armour  and  equip- 
ments, the  palfrey  and  the  falcon  from  the  maiden,  and  the 
maiden  should  redeem  herself  by  giving  a  golden  ring ;  if,  on 
the  contrary,  Lord  Walter  was  victor,  the  vanquished  should 
offer  the  lady  a  gold  ring.  At  every  halt  made  by  the  lord 
of  Settlcstoedt,  there  were  strifes  amongst  the  knights  for  the 
honour  of  tilting  against  him.  To  restore  peace,  he  wai 
j1)ligcd  each  time  to  point  out  him  whom  he  selected  to  be 
his  adversary.    He  thus  travelled  to  Mersebourg  and  back 


IffK' 


w 


tIFI    OF   tf.    ILIIABITH, 

•gain  withoot  tjvr  being  conqaered,  and  on  rensntering  Thoi 
ringift,  his  fair  attendant  had  on  each  finger  of  both  hands  a 
ring  paid  by  a  fanqoished  knight  Lord  Walter  offered  these 
ten  rings  to  the  ladies  of  honour  of  the  DacL«aB  Elizabeth, 
at  which  they  were  maoh  nijoiced,  and  with  their  royal  mi» 
tnm  ihf&j  returned  him  hearty  thanks  for  his  geasiosilj. 


CHAPTER  XT. 


low  m  oooD  Dtnn  Loun  took  up  thi  ommi,  Am  or  nn  oiiAt 

ORIBF    WBUKWITB    11    lADI    rABBWBLL    VO    HIS    WBaKM,    MU 
f AllILT,  AMD  TBI  DBA!  lAVT  BLIZAnTK. 

"OMatntM  M  altaratrani  fl«T«raat  pflritor.**— 1  JUtg,  n.  41. 
*  Qno  abut  dUMtnt  taiu^  o  piildi«rriiiui  m vllcnun  f   Quo  dMllMTlt  dllMtM  f" 

OlMltT.  IT 

•Sodotbon  dtQlMTBto  partwfthABMMMrjnd  Wlorvd  tdnAtmti^kmti 
Qotir-^JmUaUom<(f  ChH$t,B.%Q,%, 

Trurtnota  did  not  long  ei^oy  the  presence  of  its  b<)]0Ted 
sovereign  after  his  retam  from  Italy,  and  Elizabeth,  who  had 
welcomed  her  husband  again  to  her  side  with  a  joy  so  liyely 
and  so  tender,  was  soon  to  be  condemned  to  another  separa- 
tion far  more  painful  and  uncertain.  In  a  word,  all  Germany 
prepared  for  a  crusade.  The  Emperor  Frederic  II.,  yielding 
at  length  to  the  frequent  exhortations  of  the  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiffs, Honorius  III.  and  Gregory  IX.,  inrited  all  the  nobility 
and  the  faithful  of  Christendom  to  range  themselves  under 
the  banner  of  the  Cross,  and  to  follow  him  to  the  Holy  Land 
b  the  autumn  of  1227.  The  idea  and  name  of  Crusadi  were 
alone  suflBcievt  to  make  the  hearts  of  all  nations  beat  with 
ardour.  Thecie  great  and  holy  expeditions  exercised  over 
Boals  an  inflo^nce  so  powerful  that  no  valiant  knight  nor 
pious  and  fervent  Christian  could  resist  it.  The  remembrance 
of  the  almost  fabulous  exploits  of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion, 
forty  years  before,  still  lived  in  the  minds  of  the  Chivahy  and 
the  people.  The  brilliant  and  unhoped  for  success  of  tbt 
Foarth  Crusatle,  dazzled  all^orope.  People  saw  the  d'kitruo* 
lion  of  that  ascient  empire  c^  Byzantiam,  which  never  did  else 


•10 


Llfl    Of    tf.    ILIIABITn, 


tlmn  betraj  the  Chriitiani  who  were  fighting  for  the  fiiith, 
but  which  still  occupied  an  immentiG  place  in  the  TcucrutJDi 
of  Christendom,  and  from  the  ruins  of  which  was  destined  u 
rise  a  new  empire  founded  bj  a  few  French  knights  and  mn^ 
Venetian  merchants.     In  this  there  was  sufficient  to  awaken 
all  imaginations,  eren  without  the  inspiration  of  faith,  and 
these  had  not  yet  lost  any  portion  of  their  strength.    Tb« 
whole  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  penetrated  with  an  oar* 
nest  desire  to  rescue  the  tomb  of  Christ,  and  to  bow  down 
the  power  of  the  East  before  the  cross.    The  feeling  was  ox- 
tiuguished  only  at  the  death  of  St.  Louis.     Germany,  wliicb 
was  never  before  the  first  to  engage  in  these  noble  perils,  wan 
now  inflamed  with  an  enthusiasm  that  burst  forth  partico- 
larly  in  the  numerous  songs  of  the  ago.     Walther  Yon  der 
Vogelwcide,  whose  poems  mirror  most  faithfully  the  maninn 
and  feelings  of  his  time,  and  who  entered  this  crusade,  has 
best  expressed  the  attraction  felt  by  Christian  souls  towards 
the  laud  where  Ciirist's  sacred  blood  was  shed  for  our  salvii- 
tion.    "  We  all  know,''  said  he  before  he  set  out  on  this  ex* 
pedition,  "how  unhappy  is  this  holy  uu^l  noble  laud,  bow 
abandoned  she  is  and  desolate  I   Weep,  Jerusalem  I   weep  I 
how  art  thou  forgotten  !    Life  passes,  death  will  find  os  still 
sinners..   It  is  in  dangers  and  trials  that  we  acquire  grace ; 
let  us  go  to  heal  thn  wounds  of  Christ ;  let  us  go  to  free  His 
country  from  her  chains.    O  Queen  of  all  women,  come  to 
our  aid  I    It  i^as  there  thy  Son  so  pure  was  baptized  to  po- 
lify  us  I  it  was  there  He  was  sold  to  redeem  us,  He  so  rich 
we  60  poor  !    It  was  there  He  suffered  a  most  cruel  deatn : 
Hail  to  you!  Lance,  Cross,  Thorns  I    Defeat  to  you  pags 
By  the  arms  of  His  heroes  does  Ood  wish  to  revenge  the  in- 
juries done  Hir^.''    These  were  also  the  emotions  expressed 
by  the  royal  bard  of  Xavarre,  Thibault  of  Champagne,  io 
some  of  the  fine  pOf.irv?  i^"/ dressed  by  him  to  his  noblea 
**  Know  well,  my  lofdi,-'  says  ^f<,   '  that  be  who  goep  not 


an 


to  thin  Und,  who  Ukei  not  op  the  CroM  beyond  the  tet^ 
will  find  it  hard  to  enter  Paradise.  Everj  man  who  fcelf 
foiiip  pity  for  the  tuff'  iigH,  and  presenret  the  rememhranor 
of  till*  inoflt  Uif^h  IiOrd»  shoald  atriTe  to  rerenge  Hi  ),  and  t« 
deliu;  His  eouutry.  Al!  the  Taliant  knights,  nil  wi.o  off 
God  nnd  tiie  honoar  of  this  world,  ali  who  wish  to  go  wisely  > 
to  God,  will  go  there ;  none  will  remain  at  home  bat  the 
ilotlifiil  and  indifferent.  How  blind  are  they  who  during 
tlieir  lives  do  noaght  for  GM,  and  who  for  so  little  lone  even 
the  fflory  of  this  wov.i .  lU, '  who  deigned  to  saffer  death  for 
u<;  on  the  Gro89,  will  nay  on  the  day  of  the  great  judgment, 
'Voii  who  hcve  aidea  me  to  carry  my  Cross,  shall  go  to  join 
the  I)lcs8ed  i  iiipany  of  the  angels  ;  there  yon  will  see  me, 
and  my  mother  Mary:  but  yon,  who  never  did  me  any  service, 
gjml  descend  into  Hell/  Sweet  Lady,  crowned  Qnccn,  pray 
for  n9,  most  blessed  Virgin,  and  noaght  then  can  harm  us.** 

In  no  heai*t  conld  these  sentiments  find  a  deeper  echo 
than  in  that  of  Duke  Lonis  of  Tharingia,  whose  vassal  the 
poet  Walther  had  been.  No  one  conld  more  earnestly  desire 
to  follow  the  emperor  and  his  brothers  in  arms  to  the  rescne 
of  the  Holy  Land.  His  brilliant  courage,  the  fcnronr  of  his 
faith  and  piety,  all  that  was  in  his  yonng  soul  of  generous, 
ardent,  disinterested,  in  a  word,  all  that  was  Christian,  com- 
bined to  induce  him  to  take  up  the  Cross,  or  as  it  was  then 
called  in  Germany  to  adorn  himself  with  the  /lower  of  Chrtat 

To  these  personal  motives  were  added  the  noble  examples 
presented  by  the  records  of  his  family.  Louis  the  pimu,  bro- 
tl (T  and  predecessor  of  his  fathf^r,  had  accompanied  Richard 
I  jr  de  Juion,  and  Philip  Augustus  to  Palestine,  and  no* 
qnired  a  glorious  renown.  His  father-in-law,  King  Andrew 
of  Hungary,  had  spent  sevefal  years  of  his  life  under  an 
eastern  sky,  fighting  against  ctbe  NIdels. 

It  would  be  unworthy  of  Laiii  to  remain  by  his  fire-side ; 
•0  be  did  not  waver  long,  b«t  soon  same  to  a  noble  dete^ 


'f 


M. 


tl2 


LIFE    or    8T.     BLIZADBTH, 


minatioii.     Having  met  during  one  of  his  jonrnejrs  with  th«  I 
venerable  Bishop  Conrad  of  Hildesheim,  he  confided  to  hit} 
his  intention,  and  having  received  his  approbation  he  niude  i 
vow  to  join  the  expedition  then  in  preparation,  and  receive>l 
Uie  cross  from  the  hands  of  this  prelate. 

Meanwhile  when  returning  to  Wartbnrg  he  thought  apoQ 
lie  grief  and  deep  anxiety  that  his  beloved  Elizabeth  woald 
feel  on  learning  his  resolntion  ;  and  besides,  as  she  was  then 
pregnant  of  her  fonrth  child,  he  had  not  courage  to  speak  of 
it  to  her.  He  decided  upon  concealing  his  project  until  the 
moment  of  his  departure,  in  order  that  she  whom  he  lorcd  so 
much  should  not  be  over  afflicted  lest  of  injury  to  her  hcaltii; 
so  in  place  of  attaching  the  Cross  exteriorly  to  his  person,  he 
wore  it  secretly. 

But  one  evening  as  they  sat  alone,  side  by  side,  Elizabeth, 
in  a  moment  of  the  tender  familiarity  that  existed  between 
them,  unloosed  her  husband's  belt  and  began  to  search  the 
almspurse  attached  to  it.  Immediately  she  drew  from  it  the 
Cross,  the  usual  badge  of  a  crusader.  At  this  sight  she  felt 
the  misfortune  that  threatened  her,  and  seized  by  grief  and 
afifright  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  The  Duke  raised 
her,  and  strove  to  calm  her  sorrow  by  the  sweetest  and  most 
affectionate  words;  he  spoke  to  her  for  a  long  time,  using  the 
voice  of  religion,  and  even  the  language  of  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures, to  which  she  was  never  insensible.  "  It  is  for  the  love 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  said  he,  "  that  I  go.  Thou  wilt 
not  prevent  me  from  doing  for  God  what  I  should  do  for  a 
tcm]>orai  prince — for  the  emperor  or  the  empire,  if  they  re- 
quired my  services."  After  a  long  silence  and  much  wecpfng 
the  said  to  him,  "  Dear  brother,  if  it  be  not  against  God'? 
will,  remain  with  me."  But  he  replied,  "Dear  sister,  per- 
mit me  to  set  out,  for  I  have  made  a  vow  to  God."  Tlien 
entering  into  herself  she  immolated  her  will  to  God  and  said 
to  her  hosband,  "  Against  God's  will,  I  wish  not  to  detaic 


.nrri^  ov  HUROARr. 


'^, 


(hoc.  I  b&^c  offered  thee  and  myself  as  a  sacrifice  to  Him 
.Mav  He  in  Ills  goodness  wotch  over  thee.  May  all  happi- 
ness attend  thee  for  ever  I  This  shall  be  my  prayer  each 
iiionii'iit.     Go  then  in  the  name  of  Gotl." 

Thov  again  remained  in  silence,  but  afterwards  spoke  ol 
tlie  cliiltl  she  then  bore  in  her  womb,  and  they  resolved  to 
coiiSLcrate  it  to  God  from  its  birth.  In  case  it  was  a  boy 
till  y  ii'^vced  that  he  shonld  enter  the  abbey  of  Ramersdorf ; 
Imt  if  a  girl,  that  she  should  be  sent  to  the  monastery  of  the 
Preniofistratensians  near  Wetzlar. 

The  Duke  baring  no  longer  any  motive  to  keep  his  dec!* 
sion  secret,  made  it  known  to  all  his  suly'ects.  He  announced 
at  tiic  same  time  that  this  expedition  shonld  be  formed  en 
tircly  at  his  own  expense,  and  that  for  its  maintenance  he 
woulil  not  levy  any  extraordinary  tax  upon  his  subjects ; 
happy  to  be  able  thus  to  return  to  the  Lord  some  of  the 
blessings  he  had  received  from  Him. 

After  having  made  all  the  military  preparations  that  hw 
projott  required,  he  convoked  the  estates  of  his  dominions  to 
a  solemn  assembly  at  Crentzburg.  He  detailed  to  them  his 
(k'siui),  and  took  with  them  the  necessary  measures  for  the 
jrood  government  of  his  country  during  his  absence.  He 
oxliorted  his  nobles  to  rule  the  people  with  mildness  and 
(•(luity,  and  to  let  justice  and  peace  reign  over  them  and  their 
Viissals.  Before  quitting  the  assembly,  he  addressed  the  fol- 
lowing words  in  a  gentle  tone  of  voice  to  his  audience  : — 

"  Dear  and  loyal  brothers-in-arms,  barons,  lords,  and  noble 
knights,  and  you,  my  faithful  people,  you  know  that  during 
the  lifftime  of  my  lord  add  father  of  pious  memory,  our 
country  had  cruel  wars  and  many  troubles  to  endure.  You 
know  how  my  royal  father  suflfered  pains,  reverses,  and 
fatigues,  to  defend  himself  against  his  relentless  enemies,  and 
to  preserve  his  kingdom  from  utter  ruin.  He  succeeded  by 
dint  of  courage  and  generosity,  and  his  name  became  for 


t^ 


f 


i 


m 

ulil 


111 


h 


'^ri 


214 


Lire    OF    ST.    BLXZABKTR, 


midable  to  all.  Ar  for  me,  God  has  granted  to  mc,  as  \^\ 
did  to  Solomon,  son  of  David,  peaceful  and  tranquil  dnyi 
I  know  not  any  neighbour  that  I  have  reason  to  fear,  neither 
can  any  one  dread  from  me  unlawful  violence.  If  in  timd 
past  I  have  had  some  conflicts,  I  am  now  at  peace  witli  all, 
thanks  to  the  Lord  the  Giver  of  peace.  You  should  all  b« 
sensible  of  this  blessing,  and  thank  God  for  it.  As  for  me, 
through  love  for  that  God  who  has  loaded  me  with  favours, 
to  testify  to  him  my  gratitude,  and  for  the  salvation  of  mi 
soul,  I  am  now  going  to  the  eastern  country  to  the  succour  of 
oppressed  Christianity,  and  to  defend  it  against  the  enemies 
of  the  name  and  of  the  blood  of  Christ.  I  undertake  thii 
distant  expedition  at  my  own  expense,  without  burthcning 
you,  my  dear  subjects,  with  any  additional  impost. 

"I  recommend  to  the  protection  of  the  Most  High  my' 
good  and  well-beloved  wife,  my  little  children,  my  dear  bro. 
thers,  my  friends,  ray  people,  and  my  country ;  in  a  word,  all 
that  I  leave,  with  a  willing  heart,  for  the  honour  of  His  holy 
name. 

"  I  earnestly  recommend  you  to  keep  peace  between  yon 
during  my  absence  ;  above  all,  I  hope  that  my  nobles  will 
conduct  themselves  in  a  Christian-like  manner  towards  my 
poor  people.  In  fine,  I  beg  of  you  to  pray  frequently  to 
God  for  me  that  he  may  preserve  me  from  all  misfortune 
during  this  journey,  and  that  He  may  bring  me  safe  nml 
sound  again  to  you,  if  it  be  His  most  merciful  will,  for  I 
submit  myself,  and  yon,  and  all  that  I  hold  dear,  to  the 
pleasure  of  His  Divine  Majesty." 

In  these  touching  words  is  revealed  to  as  all  the  depth  of 
what  was  then  called  "  The  Mystery  of  the  Cnisade,^*  a  mys- 
tery of  faith,  devotion,  and  love,  ever  impenetrable  to  the 
cold  understandings  of  faithless  ages.  In  listening  to  this 
farewell,  so  worthy  of  a  Christian  prince,  all  the  assembly 
WAS  deeply  moved ;  the  strongest  knights  were  oppressed 


or    BUKOART. 


S19 


with  grief,  and  with  sighs  and  tears  expressed  the  anxiety 
caii^Ml  them  by  the  approaching  departure  of  their  yonng 
tnd  well-beloTcd  soTereign. 

The  Duke  then,  with  the  greatest  prudence,  appointed  the 
rariuiis  officers  whom  he  wlslied  to  place  over  his  estates,  and 
geli-cted  magistrates  for  each  city  from  amongst  the  wisest  of 
its  iiiliabitants.  He  also  put  the  private  affairs  of  his  house- 
jiold  in  order,  and  specially  recommended  his  dear  Elizabeth 
to  the  care  of  his  mother,  his  brothers,  and  his  officers.  "  I 
know  well,''  said  the  steward  to  him,  "that  my  lady  the 
Diieiicss  will  give  away  all  that  she  can,  and  reduce  us  to 
misery."  To  which  Louis  replied  "that  it  was  equal  to 
biin,  for  that  God  knew  how  to  replace  all  that  she  gave 
Bwav."  Louis  also  went  to  visit  all  the  convents  of  Eisenach, 
even  those  oi'  the  nuns ;  asked  the  blessings  of  the  religious, 
distributed  to  them  abundant  alms,  and  recommended  himself 
to  tlioir  prayers.  Then  he  left  Eisenach,  accompanied  by  his 
wife,  his  children,  his  mother,  and  his  brothers.  He  went 
first  to  Reynhartsbrunn,  the  monastery  he  loved  beyond  all 
otiiers,  and  to  which  he  was  attached  by  the  bonds  of  a  spo^ 
ciai  devotion  and  a  sweet  familiarity. 

After  having  assisted  at  the  office,  he  left  the  choir  before 
the  monks  came  out  to  receive  the  holy  water,  according  to 
custom  ;  the  good  prince  placed  himself  beside  the  asperging 
priest,  and  as  each  religious  passed  he  embraced  him  afTeo 
tionately;  even  the  little  children  of  the  choir  he  raised  in  hip 
arnis  and  imprinted  on  the  forehead  of  each  a  paternal  kisa. 
Affected  by  so  much  goodness,  the  religious  burst  into  tears, 
and  nought  was  heard  for  some  time  save  the  smothered 
sound  of  sobbing  occasioned  by  the  sad  tltoughts  of  the  ab 
sctiee  of  their  protector.  The  Duke  yielded  to  his  emotions 
and  shed  tears— a  dismal  foreboding  seemed  to  seize  upon 
him,  and  he  said,  *'  It  is  not  without  reason  that  you  weep^ 
Qiy  dearest  friends,  for  when  I  shall  have  gone  away,  rtp» 


...  1 


mi\i\ 


MS 


,  ■  tlm' 


su 


LIFE    OV    ST.    ILISABITH, 


eions  wolves  shall  attack  you,  and  with  their  marderous  teetk  I 
torment  yon  cruelly.  When  you  shall  be  anhappy,  impoT. 
erishcd,  you  shall  see  that  in  me  you  have  lost  a  defender 
and  a  sovereign  whose  like  is  not  frequently  found.  Bat  1 1 
am  also  sure  that  the  Most  High  will  open  to  you  the  boweli 
of  His  mercy,  and  this  I  beg  of  Him  now,  and  for  ever,  with 
all  my  heart.'' 

Then  he  left  them,  but  they  followed  him  with  hearts  full 
of  pious  affection,  and  eyes  bathed  in  tears. 

The  Duke,  still  accompanied  by  all  his  family,  went  from 
Reynhartsbrunn  to  Scbmalkalde,  where  he  had  appointed  i 
meeting  with  all  who  were  going  to  follow  him  to  the  Holj 
Land.  It  was  there  he  was  to  take  leave  of  his  relations,  hig 
mother,  his  wife,  and  all  who  dwelt  in  his  heart.  As  sood 
as  he  arrived  he  took  his  brother  Henry  aside  and  said  to  liim, 
"  I  have  done  all  that  I  could,  with  God^s  help,  to  walk  Id 
the  way  of  salvation  for  my  soul,  and  I  know  of  nothing  that 
could  compromise  it,  if  it  be  not,  that  I  have  not  yet  de* 
fltroyed,  as  my  father  ordered  me,  the  castle  of  Eyterbarg, 
which  was  built  to  the  prejudice  of  the  neighbouring  convent. 
I  beg  of  thee  then,  my  gentle  brother,  not  to  forget  razing  it 
entirely,  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  set  out :  that  will  tend  to  th3 
salvation  of  thy  soul." 

At  length  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  the  day  fixed 
for  the  departure,  arrived,  and  they  were  forced  to  say  farewell 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  nobles  come  from  the  very  extremities 
of  his  dominions,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  people  who 
pressed  aronnd  to  look  for  the  last  time  on  their  beloved 
prince,  that  Louis  parted  from  all  he  loved. 

He  commenced  by  affectionately  blessing  his  two  brothers 
who  were  both  weeping;  he  ferviently  recommended  to  them 
his  mother,  his  children,  and  his  Elizabeth.  His  little  ones 
dung  to  his  garments,  embraced  him  weeping,  and  in  their 
Infantiot  language  bade  him  farewefl.    He  could  not  restraii 


Of    BUWOAAT. 


%n 


I,i8 1<  nrs  when  kissing  them,  and  when  he  tamed  towards  his 
))o1  )ve(l  Elizabeth,  his  grief  and  sobbing  prevented  him  fro'^ 
e|Mnkii)g  to  her.  Then  embracing  her  with  one  arm,  and  his 
motiier  with  the  other,  he  held  them  both  pressed  to  hii  b(^ 
lom  uithont  uttering  a  word,  ana  kissed  them  repeatedly 
while  shedding  abundant  tears,  for  more  than  half  an  hour. 

At  length  he  said,  "  My  loTed  mother,  I  mast  leave  thee, 
but  tiiou  hast  in  mj  place  thy  other  two  sons,  Conrad  and 
Henry.  I  recommend  to  thee  my  wife  whose  anguish  thoa 
geost."  Bat  neither  his  mother  nor  his  wife  would  leave  the 
object  of  their  love,  each  clung  to  his  side.  His  brothers  and 
tlie  other  knights  pressed  round  this  sorrowing  group.  All 
hearts  were  rooved'—all  eyes  were  tearful,  on  seeing  this  pious 
loD,  this  faithful  and  tender  husband  striving  to  escape  from 
the  embraces  of  those  he  loved  most  in  this  world,  in  order 
to  serve  God  at  the  peril  of  his  life.  The  people  mingled 
their  sincere,  though  noisy  grie^  with  that  of  the  princes  and 
warriors. 

And  it  was  not  alone  one  family  that  experienced  the  grief 
of  parting;  there  were  in  the  crowd  of  Crosaders  who  were 
to  accompany  the  Duke,  many  fathers,  and  husbands,  and 
brotliers,  who  wept  and  struggled  like  their  sovereign  in  sep- 
arating from  their  families  and  friends.  Each  one  seemed 
to  iiave  deferred  to  this  moment  the  painful  trial.  The  Thn- 
rini^ians,  the  Hessians  and  the  Saxons  were  there  united  by 
u  common  affection,  as  well  as  by  the  object  of  their  expedi- 
tion. So  m4ny  ties  could  be  broken  only  by  a  supernatural 
eff(jrt.  On  all  sides  were  heard  groaning  and  sobs,  confused 
and  whispering  sounds,  all  commingled  in  the  general  agony. 

Meanwhile  several  men,  who  were  either  more  masters  of 
their  hearts,  or  who  were  already  far  away  from  their  friends, 
or  who  perhaps  were  alone  in  this  world,  having  neither  fa* 
tnily  nor  social  bonds  to  break,  were  at  this  solemn  moment 
governed  only  by  the  thou|(ht  of  the  sacred  character  of  thi 
10 


''$] 


tin 


LIFI    OF    IT.    BLISABITH, 


enterprise  which  they  were  abont  to  commence.  Ticso  (H 
•aders  and  pilgrims,  whilst  the  others  wept  and  lanunttd, 
entoned  hymns  of  tbanksgiTing  to  God  for  having  deign  d  to 
permit  them  to  go  and  combat  for  the  honour  of  His  holv 
name.  The  sound  of  these  canticles  mingled  with  the  t rits 
of  grief  that  were  nttered  on  all  sides,  andthns  were  re-uiiiti.d 
by  a  sublime  contrast,  the  height  of  joy  inspired  by  the  love 
of  the  Lord,  and  the  expressions  of  that  deep  grief  whiclithifl 
love  tanght  these  good  men  to  brave  and  conquer. 

When  at  length  the  Duke  could  detach  himself  from  the 
amis  of  his  mother,  he  was,  as  it  were,  imprisoned  by  lilg 
knights  who  remained,  and  by  the  poor  people  to  whom  he 
was  justly  so  dear ;  each  wished  to  detain  him,  to  embrace 
him  again,  to  take  his  hand  or  to  touch  his  gttrments ;  Louis 
with  tearful  eyes  looked  on  but  could  not  speak.  It  was  by 
a  great  effort  that  he  made  way  through  them  to  the  phice 
where  his  courser  waited  ;  having  mounted  him  he  rode  into 
the  midst  of  the  Crusaders,  and  mingled  his  voice  with  theirs 
in  chaunting  their  holy  hymns. 

His  beloved  Elizabeth  was  still  with  him,  for  she  would 
not  be  contented  to  bid  him  farewell  at  the  same  time  with  his 
other  friends,  but  obtained  permission  to  accompany  him  to 
the  frontiers  of  Tburingia.  They  rode  on,  side  by  side,  with 
hearts  overwhelmed  with  sadness.  No  longer  able  to  spenk, 
the  young  Duchess  could  but  sigh.  They  arrived  at  the  fron« 
tier,  but  she  had  not  courage  sufficient  to  leave  him,  so  she 
made  anoth«:r  day's  journey,  and  then  a  second,  led  on  by 
grief  and  love.  At  the  close  of  the  second  day  she  declared 
that  she  would  never  leave  him,  but  would  go  with  him  to 
the  end.  Yet  it  was  necessary  that  she  should  leave  him, 
and  the  divine  Love,  strong  as  deaths  conquered  in  these  two 
noble  and  tender  hearts  the  love  of  the  creature.  The  lord 
de  Yarila  came  nigh  to  the  Duke  and  said  to  him,  "  My  lord 
llw  time  has  now  arrived  that  oor  uoble  Duchess  must  lean 


at    flUNVARI 


911 


as."  At  these  words  both  burst  into  teftrs,  they  embraced 
each  otlier  trembliug  with  emotion,  and  sobbing  with  such 
guiriiish  that  the  hearts  of  all  present  were  moved. 

Meanwhile,  the  wise  lord  de  Yarila  insisted  on  their  Bepar» 
tioii;  but  these  two  souls  so  long  and  tenderly  united  dung 
to  cut  h  other  with  unspeakable  love  at  this  sad  moment. 
Louis,  however,  conquered  his  heart,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
gave  the  signal  for  departure.  He  showed  the  Duchess  a  ring 
whicli  he  always  used  for  sealing  his  private  letters.  "  Elizfr* 
k'th/'  said  he,  "  0  thou  dearest  of  sisters,  look  well  upon 
this  ring  that  I  take  with  me.  On  the  sapphire  is  engraven 
the  Lamb  of  God  with  his  banner  ;  let  it  be  to  thy  eyes  a 
sure  and  certain  token  for  &11  that  concerns  me.  He  who 
brings  thee  this  ring,  dear  and  faithful  sister,  and  tells  thee 
that  I  am  still  alive,  or  that  I  have  died,  believe  all  that  he 
shall  say  to  thee."  Then  he  added:  "  May  the  Lord  blesi 
thee,  my  dear  little  Elizabeth,  beloved  sister,  my  sweetest 
treasure.  May  the  Lord  preserve  thy  soul  and  thy  courage  ; 
may  he  also  bless  the  child  thou  now  bearcst,  we  will  do  with 
it  what  we  have  already  agreed  upon.  Adieu,  remember  our 
happy  life,  our  fond  and  holy  love,  and  forget  me  not  in  any 
of  thy  prayers.  Adieu,  I  can  no  longer  stay."  And  he  rode 
away,  leaving  his  beloved  wife  in  the  arms  of  her  ladies  ;  she 
followed  him  a  long  time  with  her  eyes,  then  almost  heart*. 
broken,  bathed  in  tears,  in  the  midst  of  the  lamentations  of 
her  companions,  she  returned  to  Wartburg,  feeling  in  her 
heart  a  sad  foreboding  that  never  again  should  she  look  upon 
him.  Returned  to  her  lonely  home,  she  laid  aside  her  royal 
robes,  and  with  a  sad  presentiment,  assumed  the  costume  that 
Bhc  was  never  again  to  leave  off — that  of  a  widow's  mourn* 


lug. 


''  In  this  age,"  says  a  pious  Franciscan  (le  Pere  Archange) 
vlio  wrote  the  life  of  St.  Elizabeth  in  the  reign  of  Louif 
XI  v.,  "  in  this  age  we  see  so  little  affection  between  married 


^^o 


Liri    OF    ST.    ILISABBTB, 


people,  eren  amongst  those  who  appear  to  be  pion»,  that  w( 
may  be  astonished  to  see  in  so  detached  a  princess,  so  linnh 
love  for  her  royal  spoase.''    We  will  not  follow  the  good  fiiif 
through  the  defence  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  nink(>  Tnr 
this  feature  in  the  character  of  St.  Elizabeth.     We  cun  «if 
of  her  wliat  St.  Bernard  said  of  Mary,  '*  Be  not  a8toiii>h( d, 
my  dear  brethren,  that  Mary  has  been  styled  a  martyr  in  Wj 
soul  ;  to  be  Rnrprised  at  it  we  should  forget  what  St.  Paul 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  greatest  faults  of  the  '.sntiles,  tlint 
they  were  without  affection.''    But  it  is  sufficient  for  us  to  say, 
after  the  many  details  we  have  related,  that  of  all  the  souls 
whom  the  Church  has  crowned  with  glory,  not  one  has  ofl'(i'e<| 
to  our  contemplation,  in  the  same  high  degree,  the  model  of  i 
wife,  as  did  St.  Elizabeth.     Kone  other  realised  in  such  ptifcc 
t»oQ,  our  idea  of  a  truly  Christian  marriage.    No  one  so  cniio- 
bled  and  sanctified  human  love  by  giving  it  so  high  a  place  in 
a  heart  bo  inflamed  with  the  love  of  God,  as  did  this  young 
and  noble  lady, 

'  And  this  nnion  of  the  lawful  earthly  affections  with  tho 
most  profound  piety  was  not  of  rare  occurrence  in  those  tiinen 
ot  strong  and  pure  emotions.  It  would  be  a  pleasurable  and 
fruitful  labour,  and  we  may  undertake  it  one  day,  to  demon- 
strate  how,  during  Catholic  ages,  the  most  tender  and  ];as- 
sionate  feelings  of  the  human  heart  were  sanctified  and  revi- 
vified by  faith,  and  how,  while  bending  before  the  cross, 
purely  human  love  derived  exaltation  and  energy  in  the  per- 
manent victory  of  Christian  humility  over  pride  and  s(»lfish- 
neset.  Feelings  less  varied,  less  extended,  less  refined,  p.r- 
iaps,  than  at  present,  were  then  far  deeper ;  and  when  once 
Religion  placed  upon  them  her  immortal  seal,  they  manifest  cl 
\  wonderful  strength,  and  experienced  an  unspeakable  trans- 
Sguration,  in  which  were  at  once  combined  the  calm  of  loni^' 
attachment,  the  freshness  of  innocence,  all  the  energy  of 
passion  with  all  the  parity  and  simplicity  of  religion     All 


or  nuioART. 


231 


those  who  are  acquainted  mith  the  historical  and  literary 
works  of  the  middle  ages,  wili  appreciate  the  truth  of  this 
i&»ertion. 

Another  characteristic  feature  of  the  moral  and  interior 
life  of  these  times  is  the  inseparabie  union  of  tlie  most  ardent 
tffoitiuus  with  their  legitimate  consecration  ;  thus  duty  and 
religious  obligation  became  essential  elements  of  the  passion* 
ite  emotions  of  the  heart.  In  this,  as  in  many  other  respecta, 
Elizabeth  was  an  admirable  and  complete  personification  of 
the  period  at  which  she  lived. 

Tliat  was  also  the  age  ^  #hich  St.  Louis  cherished 
throughout  his  whole  life,  for  his  wife  Margaret,  the  truthful 
and  fervent  tenderness  of  his  early  years.  This  great  saint 
and  great  king  showing  the  ring  he  always  wore,  whereon  he 
bad  engraven  these  wordn,  God,  Francs,  and  Margueiutb, 
gaid  with  such  exquisite  simplicity,  *'  Mors  cet  ami  n^ai  point 
iamour^*  **  Beyond  this  ring  no  love  have  I."  In  this  cen* 
tury,  too,  Edward  I.  of  England  erected  the  thirteen  admuralile 
crosses,  whose  remains  are  to  this  day  reckoned  amongst  the 
wonders  of  Christian  art ;  each  one  of  these  was  reared  npoa 
the  spot  where  the  bier  of  his  beloved  wife,  Queen  Eleanor, 
was  rested  during  the  procession  of  her  remains  from  Gran* 
tbam,  where  she  died,  to  Westminster. 

This  was  without  doubt  the  most  magnificent  funeral 
pomp  ever  celebrated  ;  but  was  it  too  great  for  the  woman 
who,  twenty  years  before,  went  to  share  with  her  husband  the 
dangers  of  the  Crusades,  who,  with  her  own  lips,  imbibed 
the  poison  from  the  wound  that  a  Saracen  arrow  inflicted 
upon  Edward,  and  who  had  thus  saved  bis  life  at  the  peril  of 
her  own?  But  a  very  remarkable  circumstance,  and  one 
which  we  believe  has  not  been  properly  appreciated  up  to  this' 
time,  is,  that  this  union  is  consecrated  by  fiction  as  well  ai 
by  truth,  and  the  crdations  of  imagination  render  to  it  ei 
brilliant  an  homage  es  do  the  mQuomentt  of  historj. 


ill! 

i 


i.'j 


LItl    or     IT.    ILISABBTB, 


H 


t 


All  the  poetry  of  this  period^  u  well  m  preTiona  to  Elin 
beth's  age,  breathes  the  lame  spirit  It  was.  not  until  aft«f 
this  time  that  any  interest  would  be  felt  in  the  recital  of  tin 
story  of  an  unlawful  love,  or  even  one  not  consecrated  l)y  tht 
Church.  Marriage,  or  at  least  betrothal,  should  have  taken 
place  before  Catholic  souls  would  listen  to  the  history  of  two 
hearts  as  related  by  the  poets ;  lore  and  interest,  far  from 
concluding  with  marriage,  as  in  modern  novels,  seemed  hr, 
to  find  in  it  their  beginning.  Conjugal  fidelity  was  ia  a 
manner  the  inspiring  principle  of  this  beautiful  poesy. 

The  most  animated  and  romantic  scenes  are  those  in  which 
tome  married  couples  figure — and  this  was  not  alone  the  case 
in  the  legends  and  the  poems  specially  dedicated  to  reli- 
gious purposes,  but  even  the  works  apparently  chivalrotu 
and  profane,  bear  the  same  stamp  of  the  consecrRtion  of  8en< 
timent  by  duty.  It  is  of  woman  as  a  faithful  and  pioui 
wife  that  these  poets  trace  the  portrait  in  verses  where  she 
is  pictured  as  almost  divine,  and  seems  to  share  in  the  tender 
reneration  they  paid  to  Mart.  In  our  national  literature, 
the  touching  and  pure  loves  of  Roland  and  his  betrGtu  d 
Ande,  in  the  romance  of  Roncevaux ;  the  admirable  history 
of  the  misfortunes  endured  by  Gerard  de  Roussillon,  and  hii 
wife,  suffice  to  give  us  an  idea  of  what  our  own  poets  have 
been  able  to  deduce  from  these  most  Christian  writings. 

In  Germany,  the  adopted  country  of  our  Elizabeth,  this 
style  was  even  more  general  and  more  loved  than  elsewhere. 
We  find  the  brightest  and  most  popular  examples  in  the 
NUhelungen^  in  Sigefroid  and  Chriemhilde,  those  souls  so  full 
of  simplicity,  truth,  and  devotion.  This  star  of  pure  love 
which  irradiates  the  most  beautiful  historical  traditions,  such 
as  those  of  Henry  the  Lion,  of  Florentia,  Genevieve  of 
Brabant,  Count  Ulric,  &c.,  is  always  the  brilliant  source  of 
Inspiration  of  the  grandest  poems  of  the  days  of  chivalry. 

Parsev^l  is  lo  enraptured  at  the  sight  of  three  drops  of 


ov  avvoAiir. 


blood  upon  the  snow,  which  reminds  hbn  of  his  wife's 
beauteous  complexion,  that  he  despises  glorj  and  the  combat 
iu  order  to  contemplate  them. 

Tlic  wife  of  Loheqgrio,  whenever  her  hnsband  left  her, 
iwooncd  away,  and  remained  insensible  ontil  his  return.  In 
the  Titurel  we  read  that  when  a  faithfiil  hnsband  and  wife 
gre  re-anited  in  death,  from  their  common  tomb  spring  forth 
two  vines  which  intertwine  with  and  sustain  each  other. 
^wcct  and  ncble  symbols  of  those  holy  afToctions  implanted 
from  Above,  that  give  to  the  earth  such  lovely  flowers,  bot 
the  frnits  and  rewards  of  which  an  to  be  found  oi^  li 
heaven. 


k.*.i 


c 

H 


LIfl    or    tf.    BtllABBTS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


■OW  DVKB  LOUIS  DBD  OM  BU  WAT  fO  Tm  BOLT  LAVD. 

"OMurnninatoi  In  Vrtvl  tzp1«Tlt  tompom  mnlU:  piMll*  cnlm  •nt  Dm  mIm 
;  fffUt  boo  propanfU  •daaws  lllam  d*  aidto  Uii^iiltMum.**— Ajk  It.  il,  14 


Louis,  after  losing  sight  of  his  dear  and  sorrowing  Kliza> 
betb,  soon  regained  the  joyous  and  trostlul  energy  wliicb 
always  distiugnisbed  the  true  kuights  engaged  in  those  distant 
expeditions,  and  tlie  holy  cheerfulness  that  faith  confers  in  tb» 
Idea  of  the  sacrifices  made  by,  and  the  victories  gained  over, 
Acre  human  feelings. 

He  brought  with  him  the  choicest  chivalry  of  his  domi« 
oions ;  five  counts,  Louis  de  Wartberg,  Qiinthcr  do  KcftTo* 
burg,  Meinhard  de  Muhlberg,  Henry  de  Stolberg,  and  Burk- 
hard  de  Brandeuberg  ;  his  cup-bearer,  Rodolphe,  Lord  de 
Yarila  ;  his  marshal,  Henry,  Lord  of  Ebersberg ;  his  cham 
berlain,  Henry,  Lord  of  Fahnern  ;  his  seneschal,  Hermann  de 
Hosheim,  and  a  crowd  of  other  barons  and  knights.  Tiie 
number  of  lufantry  that  followed  was  small,  owing  to  the 
great  distance  they  had  to  travel.  Five  priests,  amongst 
whom  was  the  Almoner  Berthold,  who  wrote  the  life  of 
Louis,  had  the  care  of  saying  masses,  hearing  confessions, 
and  affording  all  spiritual  consolations  to  these  warriors  during 
the  expedition. 

Besides  the  counts  and  lords  who  were  his  own  vassal!^, 
Lonis  was  accompanied  by  all  the  knights  of  Swabia,  of 
Franconia,  and  from  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  in  his  quality 
as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Crusaders  of  central  Germany. 
We  remark  amongst  them  the  name  of  Count  Louis  de  Glei- 
chen,  so  renowned  throughout  Germany  for  his  romantid 


•  r     Hl'NQART. 


9U 


i,]\cii(uret  during  this  Crutade.  A  tiftdiiion  supported  by 
kAriK'd  authorities  relHtes,  that  hii\  ntg  b««ti  bikoh  piiMoow 
1(1  I'Hk'siiDe,  and  carried  iuto  Kgypt,  ho  was  UUrnti^d  bj 
Moi*M  liflula,  daughter  of  tha  soldMn,  on  coiiUitiuii  that  h$ 
ilioiiM  marry  her,  though  he  hiid  Ut't  hin  wife  (boru  Countesi 
d'Uilainuude)  in  Thuringia;  agrtnable  to  his  proiiiine  ha 
Icoiiu'lit  his  fair  deliverer  to  his  castle  of  Gleichen,  where  the 
two  wives  lived  in  the  most  perfect  union,  and  on  his  tonil^ 
in  Krfurth  Cathedral,  he  is  sculptured  in  a  recumbent  posture 
between  them. 

Provided  with  so  good  an  army,  the  Duke  traversed  Fran- 
tonia,  Swabia,  and  Bavaria,  crossed  the  Tyrolean  Alps,  and, 
pa,<siiig  through  Lombardy,  and  Tuscany,  went  to  join  the 
Emperor  at  Apulia.  This  meeting  took  place  at  the  city  of 
Troja,  about  the  end  of  August,  1227.  The  Emperor  had 
ai>scmblcd  an  immense  force.  Sixty  thousand  men  were  there 
encamped  under  the  banner  of  the  cross  ;  but  an  epidemio 
had  already  broken  «out  amongst  them,  and  delayed  their 
embarkation.  However,  all  was  prepared  ;  the  Landgrave 
held  a  secret  conference  with  ttie  Emperor  to  arrange  in  detail 
the  plan  of  the  expedition  :  for,  notwithstanding  his  youth, 
DO  prince  inspired  with  more  confidence,  both  sovereign  and 
people,  than  did  Duke  Louis.  Immediately  after  this  confer- 
ence the  two  princes  embarked  at  Brindisi,  after  having  pre- 
viously recommended  to  Qod  their  voyage,  by  solemn  prayerSi 
hat  no  sooner  did  Louis  set  foot  in  the  vessel  than  he  felt 
himself  seized  with  trembling  and  fever. 

After  three  days,  the  Emperor,  being  no  longer  able  to 
endure  the  sea,  landed  at  Otranto,  where  the  Empress  waa. 
Tlie  Duke  went  with  him,  in  order  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
Empress  with  the  usual  ceremony,  though  a  great  number  of 
his  foHowers  had  continued  their  journey  to  Palestine.  Mean* 
thik ,  Louis  felt  that  his  fever  increased  in  violence,  and  it 


1 1 


:  'Aim 


LIFE    OF    BT.     StllABITH, 


Wfts  with  difficaity  he  regained  his  ship,  where  he  was  imrr.^ 
difttelj  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  bod.  The  sickness  ma je 
rapid  progress,  and  all  hope  of  recovery  was  soon  abandon,  d. 
The  Dake  was  the  first  who  wis  aware  of  his  danger ;  he 
(nade  his  will,  and  sent  for  the  Patriardi  of  Jerusalem  to  hring 
him  the  last  sacrament.  This  prelate  came,  accompanied  bv 
the  Bishop  of  Santa  Croce,  and  administered  to  him  Extreme 
Unction. 

After  having  confessed  his  sias  with  bumilitj  and  great 
contrition,  his  knights  assembled  aroand  his  bed,  and  he 
received  in  their  presence  the  "Bread  of  the  Strong,^  with 
the  most  fervent  devotion  and  an  expression  of  the  Uveliest 
faith. 

W«  do  not  find,  either  in  the  narrative  of  his  almoner, 
irho  was  present  at  his  last  moments,  nor  in  any  of  the  his- 
tories afterwards  written,  a  single  word  that  would  lead  us 
to  believe  that  this  holy  and  worthy  knight  felt  the  Icust 
regret  on  quitting  this  life.  Neither  bi&  youth,  in  the  flower 
of  which  he  was  carried  to  the  tomb — nor  his  country,  far 
from  which  he  died — nor  the  power  he  nobly  and  so  justly 
used — nor  his  kinsfolk,  nor  his  little  children,  whom  he  had 
yet  scarcely  time  to  know,  nor  even  Elizabeth,  whom  he  had 
so  faithfully  and  tenderly  loved,  and  loved  only — none  of  these 
blessings  seem  to  have  chained  to  the  earth,  even  for  a  mo> 
ment,  this  soul  so  eager  for  heaven. 

On  the  contrary,  we  learn  that  he  wafi  Mixious  to  die,  and 
the  happiness  of  expiring  under  the  banner  of  Christ,  as  it 
%rere,  even  in  His  service,  after  having  sacrificed  all  for  tliis, 
l^verned  him  exclusively,  and  left  no  place  in  his  heart  for 
any  earthiy  remembrance  or  regret.  As  he  had  lived  but  for 
Ood,  and  in  God,  it  seemed  to  him  <|nite  easy  to  die  at  the 
moment  God  willed  :»,  and  at  the  post  assigned  to  him 
Like  a  faithful  soldier,  he  received  anmirtnoriagly  ibe  4gnal 
which  recalled  him  before  the  close  of  the  fight. 


i  :  ;  '-1  ■ 


OV    HUNQART. 


vn 


n 


He  who  Lad  ehed  so  many  tears  when  leaving  for  a  litU* 
time-  liis  beloved  family — he  who  had  torn  himself  with  sncb 
bitter  anguish  from  the  wife  whom  he  hoped  soon  to  see 
ai^aiii,  had  not  for  them,  at  this  moment  of  complete  and 
irreparable  separation,  a  sigh  or  a  tear.  Truly  he  was  tight 
to  mourn  and  weep  when  going  far  from  her  on  earth,  bot  at 
Uoavea's  gate  this  dear  image  could  only  be  present  to  hia 
iiiiiid  as  re-united  and  rejoicing  with  him  in  the  future  blisn 
of  a  glorious  eternity. 

He  charged  some  of  the  koights  to  go  and  announce  his 
death  to  his  family,  and  to  his  dear  Elizabeth,  by  bringing 
to  her  the  ring  he  had  shown  her  when  parting,  and  which, 
as  then  agreed  upon  between  them,  was  to  be  to  her  the 
token  of  all  that  concerned  him.  Then  he  requested  all  his 
mill,  in  the  names  of  God  and  our  Lady,  to  remember  him 
if  they  surviTed  the  dangers  of  their  holy  undertaking — to 
briii^  back  his  remains  to  Thurlngia,  to  inter  them  at  Reynr 
hartsbrunn,  where  he  had  chosen  his  burial  place,  and  also 
never  to  forget  him  in  their  prayers.  Some  time  before  he 
expired,  Louis  saw  a  number  of  doves  flying  into  the  room, 
and  fluttering  around  his  bed.  "Look,  look/*  said  he, 
"upon  these  snow-white  doves  I'*  The  bystanders  thonght 
he  was  delirious,  bat  in  a  moment  after  he  said,  "  I  must  fly 
away  with  those  beauteous  doves."  In  saying  these  wordi 
he  slumbered  in  the  Lord,  quitted  this  mortal  pilgrunage  t« 
enter  the  eternal  country,  there  to  take  his  place  amongst  the 
heavenly  host,  on  the  third  day  after  the  feast  of  the  nativity 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  (11th  Sept.  1227,)  having  just  at- 
tained his  twenty-seventh  year. 

As  soon  as  he  had  breathed  his  last  sigh,  his  almoner 
Ikrthold  saw  the  doves  of  which  he  had  spoken  flying  towards 
the  east ;  he  looked  after  them  for  a  long  time,  and  felt  not 
lurprised  that  the  Holy  Spirit  who  had  descended  on  the  Son 
if  Qod  in  the  form  of  a  dove,  should  have  sent  angels  in  this 


1 1,  i 


M 


■'  "  » 


i\  ;.u 


1 , 


' . :  ^ii 


fr  *»4'^ 


p 


*  ^  *  t  f  \ 


938 


LIFE    or    8T.    BLIZABEIH, 


ftiir  shape  to  conduct  before  the  San  of  eternal  jnstice  thii 
fonng  soul,  which  throngh  its  earthly  pilgrimage  had  |)re> 
■enrcd  its  pure  and  dove-like  innocence.  To  his  face  alnadj 
•o  fair,  death  added  new  beauty,  and  the  attendants  could 
Dot  too  much  admire  the  expression  imprinted  on  his  pale 
fisatnTcs  of  firm  faith,  sweet  peace,  ineflfable  joy,  with  the  deep 
And  pure  placidity  of  death. 

It  was  a  bitter  grief  for  those  who  had  followed  Lonis  so 
far,  to  see  him  die  in  all  the  prime  of  youth  and  valour,  and 
to  fii'd  themselves  without  a  chief  in  this  hazardous  expodi- 
tion.  It  was  still  more  sad  for  those  who  had  preceded  iiim, 
who  had  not  the  mournful  happiness  of  watching  through  liis 
last  moments,  or  of  receiving  his  death  sigh  ;  to  these  faith- 
ful men  was  announced  on  the  high  sea,  the  loss  they  had 
suffered.     . 

The  air  resounded  with  their  lamentations.  "  Alas  !  dear 
lord,**  cried  they,  "  alas  I  good  knight,  why  have  you  left  us 
exiles  in  the  country  of  the  stranger  ?  How  have  we  lost 
you  I — you  the  light  of  our  eyes,  the  leader  of  our  pilgrimage, 
the  hope  of  our  after  years  1    Woe,  woe  has  fallen  on  us." 

The  messengers  returned,  and  in  union  with  those  who  had 
remained  on  shore,  they  made  a  solemn  oath  to  execute  the 
last  wishes  of  their  beloved  prince,  in -case  they  themselvea 
escaped  from  the  perils  of  the  crusade.  Meanwhile  ,thcy 
solemnly  celebrated  his  obsequies,  an^l  carefully  bnried  liii 
body  at  Otranto.  Then^they  resumei?  their  journey  in  order 
to  acoompUsh  their  tow. 


•f    HUMOABt 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


■OW    mis    DEAR    ST.     ELIZABETH     HEARD     OF    THE     DEATH     OF    Bl 
HUSBAND,   AND  OF  HER  GREAT   AGONT   AND  TRIBULATION. 

"Quo  mlhl  ftTulaos  esf  qno  mlhl  mptas  4  manibna,  homo  nnmimis,  ho) 
iteundum  oor  menin?  »in«v1uins  nos  in  vita:  qaomodo  In  morte  snmas  sepanttt 

Omntuo  opus  mortis,  horrendum  divortinm.    Qnis  enim  tarn  soaTi  vineul* 

■lutui  nostil  non  pepercisset  amoiis,  nisi  totioa  siuTiUtis  Inimtea  jnoraf"— iMt 
Bernard  in  Cant.  Sertn.  86. 

*'  Flebat  tgitor  IrremedUbiltbos  laflfymto.'*— 7b(.  z.  4. 

The  nobles  whom  Duke  Louis  had  commanded  at  his  last 
moments  to  go  and  announce  his  death  in  Thuringia,  had  a 
Ions:  and  difficult  journey  to  accomplish  ;  and  the  nature  of 
the  fatal  news  they  had  to  carry  did  not  tend  to  accelerate 
their  speed.  ' 

The  young  Duchess,  during  the  interval  that  had  elapsed 
since  the  sad  event,  had  given  birth  to  her  fourth  child,  Qer> 
triide,  and  could  not  see  the  messengers  when  they  arrived. 
It  was  then  to  the  Duchess-mother,  and  to  the  young  princes 
Conrad  and  Henry,  that  they  spoke  of  the  bitter  afflictich  by 
wlilch  they  had  been  stricken.  In  the  midst  of  the  consterna- 
tion which  this  news  spread  through  the  family  and  people  Ok 
the  illustiious  dead,  pious  and  prudent  men  were  occupied  in 
preventing  the  effect  it  would  have,  if  known,  on  the  young 
mother,  a  widow,  without  being  aware  of  her  bereavement. 
Even  Sophia's  heart  became  maternal  in  its  feelings  towards 
her  whom  her  son  had  so  dearly  loved.  She  gave  the  most 
strict  orders  that  no  one  should  give  her  daughter-in-law  reason 
to  suspect  her  misfortune,  and  took  all  necessaiy  precautioof 
to  have  these  directioni  faithfully  attended  to. 


I^« 


tIFX    Q«    0T.    Btl'SABITH, 


1 


But  the  appointed  time  had  elapsed  since  Elizabeth's  r& 
to  very,  and  it  was  deemed  fit  to  inform  this  fond  and  faithful 
wife  of  the  grief  Qod  had  willed  her  to  endure,  and  it  was  the 
Duchess  Sophia  who  was  charged  with  this  painful  duty. 
Accompanied  by  several  Roble  and  discreet  ladies  she  went  to 
Air  daughter>in-law's  apartment.     Elizabeth  received  thom 
with  respect  and  affection,  aad  made  them  all  sit  around  the 
couch  whereon  she  was  reposing,  without  being  at  all  aware 
of  the  object  of  their  visit.    When  they  had  taken  their  places, 
the  Duchess  Sophia  said  to  her :  "  Take  courage,  my  beloved 
fhild,  and  be  not  troubled  by  what  has  happened  to  your 
husband,  my  son,  by  God's  will,  for  to  that,  you  know,  he  waa 
entirely  devoted.'*    Elizabeth  seeing  how  calm  the  Duchesa 
was,  for  she  had  spoken  without  weeping,  had  no  idea  of  tiie 
fxtent  of  her  misfortune,  and  imagining  that  her  husband  had 
\keen  taken  prisoner,  she  replied,  "If  my  brother  is  in  cup^ 
tiyity,  with  the  help  of  God  and  my  friends  he  will  soon  be 
ransomed.    My  father  will  come  to  our  assistance,  and  in  a 
little  time  we  shall  be  consoled."    But  the  Duchess  Sophia 
resumed,  "  0  my  beloved  child,  be  patient,  and  take  this  ring, 
Cor  to  our  grief  he  is  dead.'*    "  Ah  mother  I  what  do  you 
^AJt"  cried  out  the  young  Duchess.    '^ He  is  dead,"  replied 
^phia.     At  these  words  Elizabeth  became  pale  and  red  b; 
toms,  and  passionately  clasping  her  hands,  she  said  in  a  Toice 
almost  suppressed  by  strong  emotion,  "  0  Lord  my  God, 
my  God,  now  indeed  is  the  whole  world  dead  to  me,  the  world 
»od  all  it  contains  of  happiness  I"    Theu  rising  she  began  to 
fon  distractedly  through  all  the  corridors  and  passages  of  the 
castle,  crying  oat,  "  He  is  dead !     He  is  dead !"    In  the 
refectory  she  was  found  holding  by  the  whII,  weeping  bit- 
terly.     The  Duchess  Sophia,  and  the  other  ladies  who  fol* 
lowed,  detached  her  from  thiK  position,  made  her  sit  down, 
tiad  used  every  effort  to  console  her.    She  still  wept,  ana  hei 
words  were  interrupted  by  Qontiuued  sobbuig.    **Now,*'  said 


or  RUKoxmr. 


ilio,  "  I  have  lost  all  I  Oh  mj  beioTed  brotlier  1  Oh  fricttd 
of  my  heart,  my  good  and  pious  husband,  how  shall  I  livi 
without  thee  I  Thoa  art  dead,  and  I  am  left  in  misery. 
Poor  desolate  widow,  anhappy  woman  that  I  an  t  May  He 
who  forgets  not  the  widow  and  the  orphan  console  me  I  Oh  1 
mv  God,  comfort  me  I  Oh  good  Jesus,  strengthen  me  in  mjr 
f  eaknessl"  Her  ladies  endeavoured  to  reconduct  her  to  lier 
chatnlier  ;  ^e  yielded  with  tottering  steps,  and  Tviien  she  tit- 
tered it  she  fell  on  her  face  on  the  floor.  They  ndsed  her  an4 
flhe  renewed  her  lamentations. 

The  Duchess  Sophia  also  gave  rent  to  has?  ina/temal  griel^ 
ard  mingled  her  sorrow  with  Elisabeth's,  as  did  also  the 
nt^ble  matrons  and  laaidens  in  attendance.  Following  their 
example,  all  the  members  of  the  Dues4  household,  all  the  in« 
habitants  of  that  Waitlmrg  where  Louis  had  spent  almost  the 
entire  of  his  short  life,  indulged  their  gi^ef,  which  they  until 
then  had  suppressed,  on  account  of  the  critical  state  of  the 
young  widow.  The  sight  too  of  ber  unutterable  anguish  ad<l* 
eil  still  mora  to  tlie  impression  produced  by  the  irreparable  lost 
of  their  beloved  sovereign.  Throughout  the  neighbourhood  fc* 
eight  days,  nought  was  heard  save  sighs,  and  groans,  and  loud 
lamentations. 

But  neither  this  general  sympathy,  nor  any  other  solace^ 
could  calm  the  affliction  of  Elizabeth  ;  In  vain  she  songht  a 
remedy  in  her  despair.  "  Nevertheless,"  says  her  pious  his- 
torian, "  there  was  always  near  her  an  Omnipotent  Consoler, 
the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Father  of  widows  and  orphans,  the  hope 
of  the  broken-hearted,  who  apportioned  His  trials  to  her 
itrength,  and  who  replenished  her  with  His  graces  in  filUng^ 
op  the  measure  of  her  aflliction." 

And  let  ns  now  look  npon  this  dear  saint,  whom  we  be^ 
held,  in  hef  truly  Christian  onion,  endowed  with  the  greateat 
happiness  of  this  life,  a  widow  at  the,  a*e  of  twenty  years ; 
the  loving  and  beloved  wife  condemned  henceforth  to  endort 


N 


til  IT 


Ur 


*  ■ 


.iw 


f82 


tin    OF    BT.     ILICABKTV, 


K. 


tbe  painful  trial  of  the  solitade  of  the  heart.  It  was  not 
■ufficient  for  the  Divine  Saviour  of  her  sonl  to  have  her 
initiated  into  the  troubles  of  life,  and  exposed  to  the  calum- 
nies aud  persecutions  of  the  wicked — she  had  preserved  invio- 
late her  tender  confidence  in  Him.  It  was  not  enough  to 
have  tempted  her  hj  the  display  of  royal  grandeur,  by  the 
ila:tering  homage  of  a  brilliant  chivalry,  by  the  joyful  and 
pure  felicity  of  her  wedded  life.  In  the  midst  of  all  this 
happiness  she  had  ever  given  the  first  place,  in  the  secret  of 
her  heart,  to  the  thought  of  heaven — in  her  outward  life,  to 
the  relief  of  her  poor  and  suffering  brethren.  Yet  all  this 
was  not  sufficient  to  accomplish  the  designs  of  Divine  Love ; 
it  was  necessary  that  before  entering  into  the  possession  of 
celestial  joys  she  who  had  relieved  so  much  misery  should 
become  in  her  turn  the  most  wretched  and  most  neglected  of 
creatures ;  before  beholding  the  eternal  treasures  she  was 
condemned  to  die  a  thousand  times  daily  to  the  world,  and 
all  the  goods  of  this  life.  Henceforth,  until  the  last  hour  of 
her  mortal  existence,  ceaseless  storms  assail  this  frail  plant ; 
but  by  a  favour,  wonderful  to  worldlings,  but  easily  intelli* 
gible  to  the  friends  of  God,  far  from  weakening  or  bending 
feebly  to  the  earth,  we  behold  her  rising,  and,  as  it  were, 
budding  forth  on  every  side  to  receive  the  dews  of  heaven, 
and  flowering  with  matchless  splendour. 

If  the  loss  of  so  loving  a  husband,  and  the  severing  of 
their  holy  union,  did  for  a  space  plunge  this  predestined  heart 
into  an  abyss  of  despair,  new  and  bitter  trials  were  sent 
to  restore  to  it  all  its  strength,  its  calm,  and  its  invincible 
Itrdour. 

If  Elizabeth  yielded  for  a  moment,  wounded  by  the  loss  of 
her  earthly  love,  soon  did  she  rise  again  to  attach  her  heart 
to  the  throne  of  the  Most  High,  by  a  chain  of  love  divine^ 
which  nothing  could  destroy. 


•V    HCMOART 

According  as  she  approached  the  end  of  her  career,  the 
exaltation  of  victory  restored  to  her  in  some  measare  the 
tranquil  courage  that  sustained  her  under  her  former  sc  tows. 
She  was  fortified  bj  the  preientimeat  and  the  hops  of 
Irinoiph. 


m 


^^^  ti 


«.| 


LIFE    OW    ST.    ILUtABITI. 


CHAPTER  XTIII 


u 


■OW  Tira  DKAR  ST.  ELTZARETH  WAS  DRIVEN  OUT  OF  HIR  CAmj 
WITH  HRR  LITTLE  CniLDREN,  AND  REDUCED  TO  BXTKRMI 
MISERY,  AND  OF  TH.I  QRBAT  INGRATITUDE  OF  MEN  TOWARDS 
HER. 

**Paap«roul«,  tempesUta  ooBTalaa,  abaqne  nn»  eonsolatlone.** 

laaian,  Book  II. 
**  Egentes,  augustiatl,  affllcti,  qnlbus  dignus  non  erat  mundas." 

UebrewH,  xl  87,  33. 

In  commencing  the  secon(!  part  of  Elizabeth's  life  with  licr 
twentieth  year,  we  cannot  refrain  from  warning  the  small 
number  of  readers  who  have  followed  us  so  far,  that  hence- 
forth they  will  no  longer  find  the  purely  human  attractions 
Vihd  romantic  interests  of  the  preceding  pages.  It  is  no  loii^rcr 
the  young  and  loving  wife,  striving  to  mingle  in  her  soul  tlie 
worship  of  her  heavenly  Father  with  the  most  beautiful 
affections  of  the  heart,  that  we  present  to  them,  but  the  peni- 
tent devoted  to  all  the  rigours  of  the  ascetic  life,  walking  out 
of  the  beaten  track  open  to  the  piety  of  the  faithful  in  general 
— uprooting  from  her  soul,  and  extinguishing  in  her  heart, 
all  that  prevented  God  from  having  full  possession  of  her  entire 
being. 

Elizabeth  shall  now  be  the  model  o^  a  Christian  widow  in 
Ibe  highest  perfection  of  that  character,  daily  more  and  more 
denuded  of  sel^  and  arrived  at  length  at  a  degree  of  self* 
abnegation  and  spiritual  mortification,  equally  repugnant  to 
human  reason  and  the  human  heart,  and  requiring  uniningl*  d 
•trength  of  faith  to  understand  and  appreciate  virtues  almost 
tnperhuman. 

The  sympathy  by  which  we  saw  the  young  widow  so  iatelj 


OF    HDVOARr. 


in 


forrooiidcd,  was  neither  long  continued  nor  eificacioot.  In  Ik 
very  short  time  persecution  and  ingratitnde  added  their  bit 
t(  rness  to  the  sorrow  that  already  filkd  her  heart.  Whili 
aliiindoncd  to  her  grief,  she  remembered  not  that  the  govern- 
ni(Mit  of  the  country  had  devolved  npot.  her  sine?  the  death 
of  lier  husband,  owing  to  the  minority  of  her  80.ij  and  man^ 
of  her  former  enemies  profited  of  the  occasion  to  overwhelm 
tier  who  had  been  stricken  by  the  Most  High,  and  to  envenom 
tht>  wound  that  Qod  had  inflicted. 

Duke  Louis  had,  aa  we  have  before  mentioned,  two  bro* 
thers,  Henry  and  Conrad ;  these  young  princes  were  ear* 
rounded  by  men,  strangers  to  every  feeling  of  justice  and 
honour.  These  iniquitous  counsellors  strove  to  bias  the 
Lund^ave  Ilenry,  surimmed  Raspon,  and  to  engage  hin^ 
Qiider  pretence  of  seeking  his  own  interest,  in  a  base  conspi- 
racy against  his  pious  sister-in-law.  They  represented  to 
him  that  according  to  an  ancient  l»w  of  the  country  of  Tho- 
ringia,  the  principality  should  remain  nndivided  in  the  care  of 
(he  eldeot  prince  of  the  royal  family,  who  atone  might  marry; 
if  the  younger  members  wished  to  take  wives,  the  most  they 
could  obtain,  as  Appanages,  would  be  some  estates ;  thej 
would  be  obliged  to  descend  from  their  rank  as  counts,  and 
a'ljvays  to  remain  vassals  to  their  elder  brother;  that  conse^ 
quently  it  was  of  the  highest  importance  for  him  (Henry)  to 
establish  himself  as  the  head  of  the  family,  to  seize  npon  tho 
Rovereign  authority,  to  put  away  the  yoong  Hermann,  son  of 
Dnke  Louis,  and  to  get  married,  in  order  that  the  dominions 
might  remain  with  his  descendants.  They  dared  not,  it  seeois^ 
advise  him  to  put  the  rightful  hnr  to  death,  but  they  insisted 
that  he  should  expel  his  brother's  widow,  with  her  children, 
including  the  little  Hermarii,  not  only  from  the  royal  resi- 
dence of  Wartbourg,  but  also  from  Eisenach,  and  from  all 
the  Bucal  possessions.  "  If,  by  chance,"  added  they,  "  tbli 
ehild  lifM,  he  will,  on  ai  riving  at  manbcod,  be  even  im 


JH 


m 


m 

m 

1  i 


■ ''ll; 

~'   ''i 


¥ 


LIPK    OP    ST      ILIZADETn, 


bappy  to  receive  one  or  two  castles  f^r  his  portioa/'  In  .b* 
mean  time  they  thought  it  well  to  pat  him  out  of  sight,  uud 
lor  this  it  became  necessary  to  dispossess  his  mother,  wlioio 
they  culled  "  the  prodigal  and  bigoted  Elizabeth." 

Henry  had  the  misfortune  to  allow  himself  to  be  seduciiJ 
by  these  wicked  coansels.  "Justice  and  honour/'  says  as 
old  poet,  "  fled  from  his  heart,  and  he  declared  war  agaiiisl 
the  widow  and  the  orphans  he  had  sworn  to  protect."  Hif 
young  brother  Conrad  also  allowed  himself  to  be  won  over  ti 
join  him;  and  strong  with  their  double  consent,  the  wicked 
€0urtiers  hastened  to  the  Duchess  Elizabeth,  to  signify  to  iter 
the  will  or  their  new  master.  They  found  her  with  her 
mother-in-law,  the  Duchess  Sophia,  with  whom  a  common 
grief  had  more  closely  united  her.  These  brutal  men  heaped 
opon  her  innumerable  insults — they  reproached  her  with 
having  rained  the  country,  wasted  and  exhausted  the  state 
treasury,  deceived  and  dishonoured  her  husband,  and  au 
nounced  to  her  that  for  punishment  of  her  crimes  she  was 
deprived  of  all  her  possessions,  and  that  Duke  Henry,  who 
was  henceforth  to  be  thtt  sovereign,  had  commanded  her  to 
quit  the  castle  immediately. 

Elizabeth,  astonished  at  these  insults,  and  at  this  message, 
hambly  asked  these  relentless  enemies  to  grant  her  at  Iea:.l 
some  longer  time  for  preparation.  The  Duchess  Sophia, 
irritated  by  the  conduct  of  these  men,  took  her  daughter  in* 
law  in  her  arms,  and  cried  out,  "  She  shall  remain  with  me, 
and  no  one  shall  dare  to  take  her  from  me.  Where  are  my 
ions?  I  wish  to  speak  to  them."  But  the  messengers  replied, 
"  No,  she  must  Icare  this  place  at  once,"  and  they  began  to 
ieparate  forcibly  the  two  princesses. 

Seeing  that  all  resistancf"  was  vain,  the  Duchess  Sophia 
wished  at  least  to  accompany  the  sorrowful  El  zabeth  to  the 
outer  gate  of  the  castle.  The  wicked  ones  in  power  refused 
the  deposed  sovereign  permission  to  take  any  property  away 


or    RUNOART. 


U1 


with  her;  bat  she  foand  in  the  coart-yard  her  little  cbihlren, 
and  two  of  her  maid.s  of  honoar,  who  were  eX|)eilcU  at  the 
Mine  time,  and  to  whom  we  owe  the  recital  of  tlii§  sad 
KciK".  When  they  orrlved  at  the  castle  gate,  Sophia  agnin 
eiiitirnccd  Elizabeth,  and  wept  bitterly  at  the  idea  of  parting 
iitli  l>er. 

The  sight  of  the  children  of  the  belored  son  she  had  lost, 
of  those  orphans  condemned  to  sliare  the  fate  of  their  guil^ 
|i  ss  mother,  redoubled  the  affliction  and  indignation  of  the 
Diiciicss  Sophia.  She  again  requested  most  earnestly  to  see 
her  sons  Henry  and  Conrad,  feeling  persuaded  that  they 
could  not  resist  her  supplications.  But  the  base  courtiers 
told  her  they  were  not  there ;  and  indeed  they  had  concealed 
theiiiselves  whilst  their  cruel  orders  were  being  executed, 
for  they  were  both  afraid  and  ashamed  to  witness  the 
l>rayers  and  tears  of  their  mother,  a.'d  the  sad  spectacle 
of  the  anguish  of  Elizabeth,  whom  they  bad  so  foully 
wronged. 

After  having  for  a  long  time  mingled  her  tears  with  those 
of  her  daughter-in-law,  whom  she  still  held  clasped  to  her 
bosom,  "  Sophia,  in  whose  sonV  says  the  narrator,  "  the 
grief  for  the  death  of  her  son  was  renewed  and  augmented 
by  the  thought  of  the  w>kednes8  of  the  children  who  were 
8f)nred  to  her,  was,  though  suffering  intense  sorrow,  oblig^ 
to  Dart  with  Elizabeth." 

The  gates  of  the  castle  where  the  young  Duchess  had 
reigned  so  many  years  were  closed  behind  her.  In  that 
court  yard,  where  the  flower  of  n''ble  knighthood  had  assem 
bled  before  setting  out  for  *\ie  tomb  of  Christ,  there  was 
not  found  one  to  fulfil  the  first  duty  of  cluTalry,  and  tc  offer 
an  asylnn  or  succour  to  the  widow  and  the  orphans.  This 
j.uigliter  of  a  royal  race  descended  on  foot  and  weeping  by 
the  rugged  and  narrow  pathway  that  led  to  the  city.  Sbt 
herself  carried  her  new-bom  infant,  the  other  three  childr«9 


m 


I 


:  I,  I 


^1 


n 


•  I 


LIFI    OF    ST*    ■LISABKTSi 


followed  with  her  two  faithful  oompaoioat.    It  was  iiiid*Mrii.Ur, 
and  tho  coUi  whs  very  severe. 

Arrived  at  the  fuot  of  the  moantain,  and  havingf  entoreri 
the  city  o(  Kisctiach,  which  she  had,  m  it  were,  inandatod  wiU 
Uie  evurflowing  ttream  of  her  charity,  a  new  and  pninful 
trial  awaited  her.  Diikc  Henry  had  caused  a  proolaniHiiou 
to  be  made  in  the  city,  that  whoever  would  receive  the 
Duchess  Elizabeth  or  hor  children  should  thereby  incur  lijs 
displeasure  ;  and  with  an  ingratitude  far  more  revolting  tiinn 
the  cowardly  baseness  of  the  order,  all  the  Inhabitants  of 
£isenach  obeyed  it :  perhaps  also,  the  remembrance  of  bonts 
fits  received,  which  weighs  so  heavily  on  vulgar  souls,  ha<l 
extinguished  in  them  all  feelhigs  of  humanity,  pity,  and 
justice.  In  vain  did  the  unhappy  princess  go,  always  sur- 
rounded by  her  little  ones,  weeping  and  knocVing  at  every 
door,  even  to  the  he  jses  of  those  who  had  former!;  testified 
the  greatest  attachment  to  her,  bat  nowhere  was  she  ad- 
mitted. 

At  length  she  came  to  a  miserable  tavern,  whence  the 
t>wner  neither  could  nor  would  send  her  (  way,  fbr  she  declnrcd 
that  his  house  was  open  to  every  one,  and  that  she  would 
remain  there.  "  They  have  taken  from  me  all  that  I  had/' 
said  she  weeping,  "  now  I  can  but  pray  to  God  f'  The  inn- 
keeper assigned  as  a  resting-place  daring  the  niglit,  for  her- 
self, her  children,  and  her  maidens,  a  miserable  out-house, 
wherein  he  kept  his  kitchen  utensils,  and  where  also  he 
lodged  his  swine.  These  he  drove  out  to  give  their  i^ace  to 
the  Duchess  of  Thuringia,  the  royal  princess  Of  Hungary. 
Bat  as  if  this  lowest  depth  of  hamiiatioa  had  snddeoly 
restored  peace  to  her  soul,  no  momm  did  she  enter  this  no* 
clean  spot,  than  her  tears  were  dried  ap.  ana  supernatural  joy 
.  tlescended  upon  and  penetrated  her  wiMie  soul.  She  remained 
in  this  state  until  midnight,  when  «&  that  hour  she  heard 
tlM  bell  ringing  fbr  matins  at  the  jLYanciscan  cottvent  that 


OF    BllfSAMT. 


ii)if>  hud  fooudcd  dnring  her  htuiband's  lifetime.  8I10  liuiii»> 
(lately  arose,  and  went  to  their  chnreli,  and  after  hnriug 
rt«  i  t«.'d  ut  the  office,  she  begged  of  them  to  chaunt  t)ie  7% 
Dmm,  in  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  tribulations  he  had 
lent  litT. 

Her  ardent  piety,  her  absolnte  siibmiRsIon  to  the  DiTiM 
«;il,  ll»e  lioly  joy  of  her  soul  which  her  heavenly  Father  had 
(li'i^'iMMl  to  try  by  snflTering,  her  old  love  for  evangelical  pot* 
crty,  resumed  again  their  sway,  never  more  to  lose  it.  Pro** 
tratc  at  the  foot  of  the  Altar,  during  the  darknesi  of  that  sad 
iii;:ht,  while  the  song  of  triumph,  so  incomprehensible  to  the 
world,  ascended  to  heaven,  she  ediQed  her  faithful  followers 
by  the  fervour  and  humility  of  the  aspirations  of  her  soul  to 
(lod. 

Aloud  she  thanked  Him  that  she  was  poor  and  despoiled 
of  all  as  he  was  at  the  crib  of  Bethlehem.  "  0  Lord,"  said 
she,  "  may  your  will  be  done  I  Yesterday  I  was  a  Duchess 
with  strong  castles  and  rich  domains  ;  to-day  I  am  a  mendt- 
euiit,  and  no  one  would  give  me  an  asylum.  Lord  !  if  I  had 
better  served  you  when  I  was  a  Sovereign,  if  I  had  given 
more  abundant  alms,  I  would  now  rejoice  at  it — unhappily  it 
has  not  been  so." 

But  sooQ  again  the  sight  of  her  poor  children  weeping 
fi 0111  cold  and  hunger,  renewed  the  M^g«iish  of  her  heart.  "  I 
iiuvc  merited  this,"  said  she,  with  gr«at  humility,  "  I  have 
deserved  to  see  them  suffer  thus,  and  I  repent  sincerely.  M^ 
cliiidren  are  borp  of  royal  race,  and  behold  them  hungry,  and 
ritliout  even  a  bed  to  lie  on.  My  heart  is  pierced  with  sor* 
row  on  their  account ;  as  for  me,  my  God,  you  know  that  1 
m  unworthy  to  be  raised  by  you  to  the  state  of  holy  pof* 
eity."  ^Ii;^beth  remained  sitting  in  this  Church  during 
the  reaiainder  of  that  night  and  part  of  the  next  day,  untU 
tlie  iuteitstly  of  cold  and  t^e  pangs  of  hunger  endured  by  hef 
L'hildren  oldiged  her  to  go  out  again  and  to  beg  for  some  food 


e.  * 


l\ 


^     ill 


MO 


Liri    07    ST.    XLXZABKTV, 


A 


'-a 


and  a  lodging.  She  wandered  a  long  time  in  Tain  throngi 
this  town  where  so  many  persons  had  been  supported,  cared 
for,  cured  and  enriched  by  her  ;  at  length  .»  priest,  very  poor 
himself,  had  pity  on  the  holy  and  royal  sufferer,  and  braving 
the  wrath  of  the  Landgrave  Henry,  he  offered  his  humble 
dwelling  to  the  widow  and  children  of  his  deceased  sovereign. 

Elizabeth  accepted  his  charitable  kindness  with  gratitude, 
wid  he  prepared  for  his  guests  beds  of  straw,  and  entertaiiiR^ 
them  as  well  as  his  great  poverty  permitted  ;  but  to  obtain 
fufficient  nourishment  for  her  children,  Elizabeth  was  obliged 
to  pledge  whatever  articles  of  value  were  on  her  person  at 
the  moment  of  her  expulsion  from  Wartburg. 

However,  as  soon  as  her  persecutors  learned  that  she  had 
foimd  a  roof  to  shelter  her,  they  sent  her  an  order  to  go  and 
lodge  with  a  lord  of  the  court,  one  of  her  bitterest  enemies, 
who  possessed  in  the  town  of  Eisenach  a  very  large  mansion. 
Yet  this  unworthy  man  reluctantly  assigned  to  her  a  narrow 
chamber,  where  he  shut  her  up  with  her  family,  treated  her 
with  the  utmost  rudeness,  and  refused  all  food  and  fuel ;  his 
wife  and  servants  imitated  his  base  example.  Elizabeth 
passed  the  night  in  this  prison,  stil'i  in  anguish  at  the  sight  of 
her  poor  children,  almost  perishing  with  cold  and  in  danger 
of  starvation. 

The  next  morning  she  resolved  to  remain  no  longer  under 
this  inhospitable  roof,  and  on  going  away  she  said,  "  O  walls  I 
I  thank  you  for  having  during  the  past  night  protected  me 
against  the  wind  and  rain.  I  would  also  from  my  heart 
thank  your  master,  but  in  truth  I  know  not  for  what.'' 

She  sought  again  the  miserable  dwelling  wherein  fihe  had 
remained  during  the  first  night  of  her  sorrows ;  it  was  the 
only  one  her  enemies  did  not  envy  her.  She  spent  the  greater 
part  of  the  days,  and  even  of  the  nights,  in  the  Churches. 
**  From  these  at  least  no  one  can  drive  me,''  she  would  say, 
^for  these  are  Qod'i  holy  dwellings,  and  He  alone  ii  my 


OF    HUNOART. 


241 


Hof^t.**  Bat  the  misery  to  which  she  was  reduced  bronght 
gtill  another  trial,  and  one  far  more  grieyons  to  her  heart 
thnn  any  she  had  yet  endured*  she  who  had  gathered  together 
and  lavished  on  so  many  poor  foundlings  and  orphans  tht 
treasures  of  her  mercy  with  more  than  a  mother's  tenderness, 
DOW  fonnd  herself  obliged  to  separate  from  her  own  loved  ^ 
children ;  and  in  order  that  they  should  not  have  to  suffer 
with  her  in  their  early  age  the  woes  of  poverty,  she  was 
obliged  to  deprive  herself  of  her  only  remaining  consolation. 
Some  friendly  persons,  whose  names  have  not  been  preserved 
by  history,  having  heard  of  the  state  to  which  she  was  reduced, 
ofifered  to  take  charge  of  her  little  ones,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  consent  to  their  removal,  as  it  was  impossible  fw  her  to 
provide  them  with  Sufficient  sustenance. 

But  above  all,  says  a  contemporary  historian,  what  made 
her  decide  on  this  separation,  was  the  fear  of  being  induced 
to  sin  against  the  love  of  God  when  considering  the  sufferings 
of  these  beings  so  ardently  loved  by  her,  for,  said  he,  she  loved 
her  children  to  excess.  They  were  then  taken  away  and  con- 
cealed separately  in  distant  places.  Assured  of  their  safety, 
she  became  most  resigned  to  her  own  fate.  Having  pledged 
any  valuable  article  she  possessed,  she  strove  t?  earn  a  liveli- 
hood by  spinning.  Though  fallen  into  such  utter  destitution, 
she  could  not  forget  her  custom  of  helping  the  unhappy,  so 
she  retrenched  some  portion  from  her  meagre  repasts  in  order 
to  have  some  little  alms  to  give  to  the  poor  people  whom 
Bhc  met. 

So  heroic  a  patience,  such  unalterable  sweetness,  seem  to 
have  calmed  the  fury  of  her  powerful  per<iecutors,  but  did 
not  suffice  to  restore  pity  or  gratitude  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Eisenach.  We  have  not  been  able  to  discover  a  single  trait 
of  c«impa8ii0n  or  sympathy  on  their  part,  amongst  the  many 
narratives  that  remain  of  these  interesting  ciicumstances.  They 
appear  on  the  contrary  but  to  demonstrate  how  true  it  is  that 
11 


Y     .     ■*   4|] 


'.'Iff 


1 


'm 


tin    or     tV.    llrt^ABBTB, 


.1 


>H 


!  i 


•ingratltiide,  Hke  aU  th<  f'Jq  pMsioiM  of  the  baman  soul,  c«i 
silence  reraprse  aod  ftifle  the  remembranoe  of  benefits  received, 
only  by  addiag  to  tbe  fivRt  iU  retorna  new  excesses  of  baso. 
IMss.    Thare  was^  amoagrt  otbeis  at  this  time,  in  Eiitenacl^ 
•B  014  beggar  woman  wko  snffered  from  many  gricrous  mi^ 
ladies,  aod  who  had  beea  for  a  long  time  tiie  object  of  th« 
teaderest  and  most  minote  eare,  and  a  recipieut  of  the  boan- 
teoos  UberaUty  of  tlie  Duchess,  who  waa  at  this  time  almost 
reduced  to  mendicmiey.    One  day  as  £li;sabeth  was  crossing 
a  muddy  stream  that  stili  nint  through  one  of  the  streets  of 
Sisenaeh,  and  in  which  some  stonea  were  placed  to  enable 
persona  to  get  over»  she  met  this  same  old  woman,  who  would 
net  Qtily  not  make  way  for  her,  but  advanced  at  the  sania 
time  upoii  the  stepping-stoaes,  and  rudely  pushed  the  young 
and  feeble  woman,  and  threw  her  at  fall  length  into  the  mudd^ 
water.    Thea  adding  derision  to  this  base  in^atitade,  the 
old  wretch  cried  out,  "There  thou  Heat;  whilst  thou  wert 
Puohess  thou  wouldst  not  lire  as  one;   now  thou  art  poor 
and  lying  ia  the  mad,  fl*om  which  I  will  not  strire  to  lift 
thee/' 

Elizal^eth,  always  patient  and  gentle,  arose  as  well  as  she 
conld,  and  began  to  htugh  at  her  own  fall.  "  This  is  for  the 
gold  and  preeions  stones  I  wore  long  ago,"  said  she;  and  then, 
says  her  historian,  slie  went  full  of  holy  resignation  and  pure 
^y  to  wash  her  soiled  robes  in  a  well  hard  by,  and  to  bathe 
ber  patieat  soul  in  the  biood  of  the  Lamb.  Arrived  at  this 
part  of  his  narrative,  a  pious  and  kind  religious  whom  we 
bftve  before  qaoted,  cries  but,  "Oh  my  poor  dear  St.  Eliza- 
hethf  I  snfier  even  more  from  thy  misery  than  thou  didst;  I 
am  f«f  more  iitdigDant  and  in&imed  with  a  just  wrath  against 
thefe  ungrateful  and  pititess  persona  than  thou  wert.  Oh, 
if  I  bad  been  present,  how  I  woukt  ban  welcomed  thoa,  thee 
Md  UuM,  froM  my  heart  1    With  wliat  love  woiikl  I  hart 


,BTi      OV     HUJtCAmV. 


earbd  for  tbec  and  provided  for  all  thj  wants  1  Lei  at  least 
my  good  will  be  agreeable  to  thee,  and  when  the  dreadful  day 
eomes  when  I  Rhall  appear  alone  and  abandoned  by  the  world 
before  Qod,  deign  to  come  and  meet  me,  and  to  weleoiM 
to  the  eternal  Xahenmii&aJ' 


9H 


LIIl    OF    tT.    BLIIABITB. 


'f 


CHAPTER  XIX 


i^ 


I 


■OW  TBt  ALL'MEKCIFUL  IBSUf  OONSOLKD  THS  D«AM  8T.  SLIKAmETR  n 
HVR  LONELINESS  AND  MI!'  ..7,  AND  HOW  THE  SWEET  AND  MOSI 
CLEMENT   TIKOIN  MARY   CAME  TO   INSTRUCT  AND   FORTIPT   HER. 

''Bgo,  ego  tpee  eonsolabor  tos.**— /«.  1L  It. 

"Et  ibsterget  DeoB  omnem  laoTnuun  ab  oenlis  eornm.** 

Apocal.  vlL  IT. 

In  the  midst  of  so  many  tribulations,  Elizabeth  never  for 
a  moment  forgot  that  they  proceeded  from  the  hand  of  God. 
Never  did  a  mnrmnr  or  complaint  arise  in  her  heart.  On  the 
contrary,  she  devoted  herself  to  prayer  and  to  all  the  pious 
practices  which  the  Church  in  her  maternal  generosity  offtira 
to  afflicted  souls ;  she  incessantly  sought  the  Lord,  and  he  did 
not  disappoint  her.  He  visited  her  soul  with  a  father's  ten- 
derness, and  rendered  the  trials  she  had  so  willingly  accepted 
the  sources  of  ineffable  consolations.  He  who  has  promised 
to  his  elect  that  He  would  wipe  away  the  tears  from  their 
eyes,  could  not  forget  his  humble  servant  prostrate  before 
Him  enurring  all  the  sadness  that  could  overwhelm  a  human 
being.  Not  only  did  He  dry  up  her  tears,  but  He  unsealed 
her  eyes  and  permitted  her  to  enjoy  a  foresight  of  the  eternal 
glory  in  which  her  place  was  already  marked  out. 

Whilst  she  prayed  night  and  day  at  the  foot  of  the  Altar, 
blessed  visions  and  frequent  revelations  of  celestial  beauty  and 
mercy  came  to  strengthen  and  refresh  her  spirit.  Ysentrude, 
the  best  beloved  of  her  maids  of  honour,  who  never  left  her, 
and  who  willingly  endured  poverty  for  her  sake,  after  having 
shared  in  her  grandeur,  related  to  the  ecclesiastical  judges  all 
the  remembrances  she  had  preserved  of  these  wonderful  con- 


.»!  rx 


or    HUNOART. 


J 


849 


folations.  She  often  remarked  that  her  mistress  fell  into  a 
lort  of  ecstasy  for  which  she  coald  not  at  first  accoant.  Om 
dav  ill  parti(;alar,  during  the  Lent,  the  Dacbess  went  to  Mass^ 
and  was  kneeling  in  the  Church  ;  suddenly  she  leant  against 
the  wall,  and  remained  for  a  long  time  absorbed  in  deep  coo* 
teniplatiou,  and  apparently  elevated  above  the  actual  life,  her 
eyes  immoveably  fixed  on  the  Altar  until  after  the  Commo- 
Dion.  When  she  came  to  herself  her  face  wore  an  expression 
of  extreme  happiness.  Tseutrude,  who  had  carefully  watched 
all  licr  niovements,  prodted  of  the  first  opportunity  to  reqnest 
her  to  reveal  the  vision  she  undoubtedly  had.  Elizabeth, 
quite  joyful,  replied  tf  her,  "  I  have  no  right  to  relate  to  men 
what  God  has  deigned  to  reveal  to  me,  but  I  will  not  conceal 
frorn  thee  that  my  spirit  has  been  replenished  with  wonderful 
consolatio'a,  and  tha'u  the  Lord  has  permitted  me  to  see  with 
the  eyes  of  my  soul  His  admirable  secrets.** 

After  the  last  blessing  she  returned  to  her  miserable  dwell* 
ing,  where  she  took  a  very  slight  refection,  and  feeling  herself 
quite  overcome  with  weakness  and  weariness,  she  lay  down 
apou  a  bench  near  a  window,  and  rested  her  head  upon  the 
bosom  of  her  dear  and  faithful  Tsentrude,  who  thought  that  * 
the  Duchess  was  ill,  and  that  she  wished  to  sleep;  but  though 
lying  thus,  she  kept  her  eyes  open,  and  fixedly  regarded  the 
heavens.  Very  soon  Ysentrude  saw  her  face  becoming  ani- 
mated; a  celestial  serenity,  an  unspeakable  joy  beamed  upon 
it,  and  she  smiled  most  sweetly  and  tenderly.  But  in  a 
little  time  after  her  eyes  closed,  and  she  wept  bitterly;  again 
tiiey  opened,  and  the  joyous  smUe  re-appeared,  but  only  to 
give  way  again  to  floods  of  tears,  and  thus  she  remained 
until  the  hour  of  Complin,  alternately  in  gladness  and  grief, 
but  the  former  feeling  predominating,  her  head  still  reposing 
on  the  bosom  of  her  friend.  Towards  the  close  of  this  silent 
ecstasy,  she  cried  out  with  extreme  tenderness,  "  O  yss, 
Lord,  if  Thou  wilt  be  with  me,  I  will  be  with  Thee,  aii4 


Mi 


LIFI    6t    0T.    IMSiBITS, 


iS 


frill  nevftr  leate  The«.^'  A  moment  after  die  recoverefl  con. 
ftciousnei%  and  Tsentrude  begged  of  her  to  tell  why  slic  had 
thus  by  turns  smiled  ftod  wept,  and  to  explain  to  lior  tie 
tneaning  of  the  words  she  had  uttered.  Elizabeth,  alwan 
ifofoundly  humble,  woald  fain  keep  silence  as  to  the  gracci 
bo  had  received  from  God,  but,  yielding  to  the  prayen 
of  her  who  had  loved  her  so  long,  and  served  her  so  devotedly, 
she  said,  "  I  have  seen  tho  javens  opened,  and  our  Lord, 
the  all  mercifnl  Jesns,  has  oi^ned  to  humble  Himself  so  far 
us  to  appear  to  me,  and  to  console  me  for  the  many  tribula- 
tions I  have  suffered.  He  spoke  to  me  with  extreme  gentle* 
bcss;  He  called  me  His  sister  and  His  friend;  He  sliowed 
onto  me  His  dearest  mother  Mary,  and  His  beloved  a|)ostIe 
Bt.  John,  who  was  with  Him.  At  the  sight  of  my  Divine 
feavionr  I  Was  overjoyed ;  sometimes  He  turned  as  if  to  go 
away,  and  then  I  wept  because  I  was  not  worthy  to  see  Ilitn 
for  a  longer  tim6.  But  He,  having  had  pity  on  me,  showed 
me  again  his  radiant  countenance,  and  said,  "  Elizabeth,  if 
tkou  will  be  with  Me,  I  will  remain  willingly  ioith  thee,  and 
will  never  be  separated  from  thee,^  and  I  immediately  replied, 
"  Yes,  yes,  0  Lord,  I  am  willing  to  remain  With  Thee,  and 
DeYer  to  be  separated  from  Thee  neither  in  happiness  nor  io 
misery." 

And  thenceforward  these  divrae  words  became  etigraven 
4n  her  heart,  and  illumined  it  with  celestial  light.  In  this 
•acred  compact  and  affectionate  union  with  Jesus  the  God  of 
Peace,  the  Father  of  the  poor  and  the  unhappy,  she  saw,  as  it 
Were,  the  end  of  het  widowhood,  and  a  new  and  indissoluble 
Allianoe  with  an  inmiortal  Spouse.  And  this  was  not  the  only 
time  that  this  Divine  Spouse  manffested  to  her  in  a  sensible 
ttianner  his  tender  and  watchful  care. 

One  day  she  had  been  the  victim  of  her  persecutors  by 
•uflfering  some  insult,  tho  nature  of  which  ia  unknown  to  us, 
but  it  was  one  so  flagrant  that  her  soiil,  Usually  to  patieot| 


;. 


OF    SITHeAIIT. 


tsci 


wii  qtihe  Aifftorbed  by  H,  and  she  wmght  for  eomfbrt  fai 
pr»yer  B«thed  in  teart,  she  begged  of  the  Lord  to  confer 
on  )i(>r  eneittiea  a  blesMBg  for  every  ii^jary  they  had  inflicted 
on  iicr. 

As  she  wa»  begianNig  to  lose  her  strength  from  praying  so 
jo»(^  in  thia  maaner,  she  beard  a  Toicc  saying  to  her,  "  Never 
didst  thoa  atkt  me  any  prayers  more  agreeable  than  these  ; 
they  have  peaetrated  to  ray  heart,  and  for  them  \  forgire 
thee  all  the  sins  thoa  didst  ever  commit  in  thy  life."  And 
then  she  heavd  the  enumeration  of  all  her  sins,  the  toice 
gayiiijj^,  "  1^  forgive  t^ee  siich  and  stich  a  sin.''  Elizabeth 
astonished,  cHed  oat,  "Who  are  you  who  speak  to  me  it 
this  inoBuerT'  to  which  the  voice  replied,  "^I  am  He  at 
whose  feet  Mary  Magdalene  knelt  in  the  house  of  Simon  the 
Leper." 

On  another  occasion  as  she  vras  regretting  thai  she  eovld 
not  confcas  to  her  usual  spiritual  director,  the  Lord  appointed 
to  her  as  coDfe8sor  the  saint  wh(»n  she  had  e^eially  preferred 
from  her  childhood^  and  whom  she  had  always  tendeily  loved* 
St.  John  the  Evangelist.  The  apostle  of  charity  appeared 
to  her ;  she  coafessed  to  him  with  a  more  faithful  reosem 
hrance  of  and  a  greater  oontrition  for  her  sins  than  ever  she 
had  felt  in  her  life  before.  He  imposed  upon  her  a  penaacei, 
and  addressed  to  her  exhortations  so  efficacions  and  tender. 
that  her  physical  ills  seemed  to  be  alleviated,  as  well  as  the 
Bufferings  of  her  soul 

In  frequent  contemplations,  Elizabeth  was  permitted  to 
penetrate  into  even  t\i»  most  minute  details  of  the  bitter 
passion  of  Chrigt.  Once,  aa  she  prayed  with  fervour,  she 
saw,  interiorly,  a  hand  extended  before  her  of  resplendent 
whiteness,  but  very  thin,  and  >^ith  long  and  taper  lingers,  and 
in  the  middle  of  the  palm  a  deep  sear  ;  by  this  hist  sign  sht 
knew  it  was  the  band  of  Christ,  and  was  aatotiiahed  at  seeing 
it  s)  eraaeiiAed.    The  foice,  w\ik  which  she  was  now  lb 


!■    i 


i  , 


,5J-'' 


-,  t 


•|?l|: 


WM^'^'\ 


•48 


LIFB   07    ST.    ILIIABITH, 


'I 


:  I 


miliar,  replied  to  her  thonght,  "It  is  because  I  was  exliansted 
daring  the  night  bj  Tigils  and  prayers,  and  daring  the  day 
by  my  joomeys  through  cities  and  country  places,  prcncliing 
ererywhere  the  kingdom  of  Qod  I^ 

Again,  she  saw  the  clotted  blood  aboat  the  woand  in  the 
side  of  Jesas  cmcified,  and  wondering  that  it  was  not  more 
liquid  and  pare,  the  same  voice  answered  her  that  this  appear* 
ance  was  the  eflTect  of  the  fearful  soiTerings  that  the  Son  of 
Qod  endured  whilst  hanging  on  the  cross. 

All  these  wonderful  visions  tended  to  excite  in  Elizabeth's 
gentle  soul,  an  excessive  contrition  for  her  sins,  the  expiation 
of  which  had  caused  such  bitter  pangs  to  the  sovereign  Vic- 
tim ;  as  she  one  day  shed  abundant  tears  whiki;  meditating  { 
on  this  subject,  her  Divine  Consoler  appeared  to  her  and  said, 
"  Grieve  no  longer,  beloved  daaghter,  for  all  thy  sins  are  for* 
given  thee  ;  I  have  sufifered  in  every  member,  and  every  part 
of  soal  and  body  by  which  thou  coaldst  oifend  thy  Cre- 
ator ;  know  that  thou  art  free  from  all  stain.''  "  If  I  am 
thas  sanctified,''  said  Elizabeth,  "  why  can  I  not  cease  offend- 
ing yoa  ?"  "  I  have  not  sanctified  thee  so  far,"  said  the 
voice,  "that  thou  cooldst  sin  no  more,  bat  I  have  given  thee 
grace  to  love  me  so  ardently  that  thoa  wouldst  rather  die 
than  commit  sin." 

Nevertheless,  the  humble  soul  of  Elizabeth,  far  from  be- 
coming self-<!onfiuent  by  these  signal  favours  of  her  God, 
seemed  only  to  have  found  in  them  a  new  motive  to  despise 
herself,  to  mistrust  her  strength,  to  exaggerate  her  un wor- 
thiness in  her  own  eyes.  Whilst  she  nobly  trampled  under 
foot  the  exterior  trials  and  cruel  persecutions  of  which  she 
was  the  object,  she  found  within  herself,  in  the  scruples  and 
terrors  excited  by  her  hamility,  an  abundant  source  of  afilic- 
tioQ.  But  God,  to  whom  alone  she  had  offered  her  life  and 
her  heart,  watched  over  this  precious  treasure;  and,  as  if  He 
irilled  that  sho  should  experience  successively  all  the  consols* 


or  BvifOAiir. 


«« 


tions  <.vhich  are  the  inheritance  of  the  children  of  predilection, 

18  if  lie  intended  that  she  should  be  more  and  more  closelj 

aiiited  b/  ties  at  once  the  most  sweet  and  powerful,  Ht 

ili&ri;ed  Her  whom  we  daily  call  up<9n  as  the  Health  of  iht 

Weak,  the  Refuge  of  Sinners,  the  Comfortress  of  the  Afflicted, 

to  heal  all  the  wounds  of  this  young  soul,  languishing  and 

desolate,  even  with  an  excess  of  love,  and  that  this  exceM 

almost  led  into  faults  against  the  blessed  virtues  of  Faith  and 

Hope.    The  Queen  of  heaven  became  henceforward  the  dlt> 

peiisutrix  of  all  the  graces  that  her  divine  Son  wished  to  pour 

forth  on  this  creature  predestined  from  her  cradle.    Mary 

bad  for  onr  Elizabeth  the  condescending  affection  that  she 

showed  to  St.  Bridget,  and  to  many  illustrious  saints  in  the 

memory  of  Christians.    She  appeared  several  times  to  instrnoty 

enligliten,  ar.i  fortify  her  in  the  path  wherein  Qod  willed  sho 

should  wait      She  whom  the  Church  names  always  ifo/Aer, 

Sovereign^  Qui<k  and  Mistress  of  all  men,  disdained  not  to 

vatc'h  ov  .'  every  step  of  this  young  and  humble  follower  of 

her  Son.    The  detailed  traditions  of  these  sacred  confidenoei^ 

gathered  from  the  recital  of  Elizabeth  herself,  have  been 

preserved  to  the  Catholic  people  in  the  annals  of  the  ordor  of 

St.  Francis,  and  still  further  in  the  documents  gathered  by 

the  priceless  labours  of  the  learned  Jesuits  of  Belgium,  for 

the  continuation  of  their  lives  of  the  saints.    Owing  to  these 

precious  manuscripts,  we  are  enabled,  even  at  this  distance 

of  time,  to  admire  the  sweet  familiarity  and  maternal  solicl- 

tade  wherewith  Mary  sympathised  with  all  the  emotions  that 

excited  the  tender,  delicate,  and  scrupulous  miud  of  Eliia* 

both,  and  how  this  Help  of  Christians  came  to  her  assistance 

in  those  severe  struggles  so  frequently  endured  by  the  soula 

of  the  elect.    Thus  we  fear  not  to  introduce  here  an  abrid^ 

ment  of  these  touching  narratives,  with  confidence  of  the 

pious  admiration  which  they  should  excite  in  every  trnlj 

Catholic  heart.  i 


w» 


LIFI    or    IT.     ILIIABITB, 


MotTiIng  conld  sariMMt  the  demencj  which  marVri]  thf 
origin  of  these  celestial  commanicationB.  One  day  as  tin 
afflicted  widow  sought,  and  at  it  were  fainly,  her  Bciu\((i  j^ 
fervent  and  anxious  prayer,  the  began  to  meditate  on  tlit 
oaasee  of  the  flight  of  Jesua  into  Bgypt,  ind  earnestly  AisltciJ 
thiit  she  could  ha?«  them  explained  to  her  by  gome  Icuntnl 
and  holy  monk.  Immediately  the  Bleesed  Tirgio  apponN 
to  het ,  and  mid,  "  If  thoo  wilt  be  my  pupil,  I  will  he  th? 
teacher  ;  if  thou  wilt  be  my  servant,  I  will  be  thy  mistruss." 
Elizabeth,  not  daring  to  believe  herself  worthy  Of  €0  much 
honour,  said,  "  Who  are  yoa  who  ask  me  to  be  your  pupil 
and  your  servant  ?^  Mary  replied  immediately,  **  J  am  tiie 
Mother  of  the  living  God,  and  I  say  unto  thee  that  no  monk 
could  better  instruct  thee  on  what  thou  wishest  to  know  than 
I  could.''  At  these  words  she  extended  her  ha  mU  towards 
the  Mother  of  Mercy,  who  took  them  in  hers  an  "'  said,  "If 
thou  wilt  be  my  child,  I  will  be  thy  mother  ;  and  when  thoo 
shalt  be  well  instructed  and  obedient,  like  a  gooi  pupil,  a 
fiftithftil  servant,  and  devoted  child,  I  will  present  thee  to  m? 
Son.  Avoid  all  disputes,  close  thine  ears  against  all  the  ill 
that  is  spoken  of  thee.  Remember  that  my  Divine  Son  fled 
into  Egypt  to  escape  the  sntires  laid  for  him  by  Herod." 
'  Still  so  great  a  favour  did  not  entirely  tranquillize  Eliza- 
beth ;  her  mistrust  of  self  increased  every  day,  yet  never  more 
was  she  abandoned  by  ike  Mother  who  bad  adopted  her.  On 
the  feast  of  St.  Agatha,  (5th  February,)  as  she  wept  bittcrlj 
tor  her  disol>edience  to  the  instructions  of  her  divine  mistrcf^s, 
this  blessed  Consolatrix  appeared,  and  said,  "  My  child, 
whence  this  violent  aflBiction  ?  I  have  not  chosen  thee  to  be 
my  child  in  order  to  do  thee  harm.  Despair  not,  though  thou 
bast  not  entirely  observed  my  precepts ;  I  knew  that  thou 
wouldst  fail  in  some.  Say  once  my  '  Saiatation,'  and  thii 
i^  will  be  forgiven  thee.''  Some  days  later,  on  the  feast  of 
6t.  Scholastica,  (Feb.  10,)  Elizabeth  wept  agauii»  and  wu 


* '  i 


0»    liVMtABr. 


m 


ipbl>!i>g  Tioluntly  wliea  her  sweet  Protectren  <!ime,  aeflomp^ 
Qi,i]  by  St.  Joba  the  BvaugcUst,  the  chosen  patron  of  Eliiii* 


Ihii.'s  oliiUlliood,  and  laid  to  her,  *'  Thoa  hast  chosen  me  for 
tliy  mistress  and  mother  ;  thoa  host  gircn  thyself  to  me,  bal 
]  wi>li  tliat  this  ohdioe  should  be  confirmed,  and  that  is  why 
Ihavo  broug)it  mj  beloved  John."  !j}lizabeth  again  joined 
her  liiutds,  and  placed  them  in  those  of  the  Queen  of  Heaven, 
liko  ii  vassal  tendering  homage  to  a  sovereign,  and  said, 
»Nu))ie  lady,  do  with  me  what  you  please,  for  I  am  yoor 
lervuiit; '  then  she  confirmed  this  offering  of  herself  by  a  vow 
ot  whicL  St.  John  was  the  witness. 

One  flight,  whilst  Eliaabeth  recited  the  "  Angelical  Salu- 
tation/' tfhe  to  whom  this  beauteoos  prayer  is  addressed  ap> 
peured,  and,  amongst  other  things  said,  **  I  will  teach  thee  aU 
the  prayers  that  I  used  to  say  whilst  I  was  in  the  temple. 
Beyond  all  alst ,  I  ised  to  beg  of  God  that  I  might  love  Him, 
lud  hate  my  enemy.  There  ia  no  Ttrtae  withont  this  abso- 
lute love  of  God,  by  which  alone  the  plenitude  of  graco 
descends  into  the  aoul ;  but,  after  entering  there,  it  flowfl 
away  again  notees  the  soul  hates  ita  enemies,  that  is  to  say, 
Ticc  and  sin.  He  then  who  would  preserve  this  grace  should 
endeavour  to  make  this  love  and  ^tuB  hatred  operate  in  hit 
heart.  I  wish  that  thou  wouldst  learn  to  do  as  I  did.  I 
arose  every  nighty  and,  prostrate  before  the  altar,  i  begged 
of  God  to  teach  me  to  observe  all  his  commandments,  and  to 
grant  me  those  graces  most  pleasing  to  Him.  I  supplicated 
Hin]  to  permit  me  to  see  the  time  wherein  should  live  the 
holy  virgin  who  was  to  bring  foi*th  His  Son,  that  I  mighl 
consecrate  my  whole  being  to  serve  and  venerate  her.''  Eli- 
zuiji  th  interrupted  her  to  say,  "  0  most  sweet  Lady,  were 
you  not  already  full  oC  ^ce  and  virtue?"  But  the  holy 
Virgin  replied,  "  Be  assured  that  I  thought  myself  as  guilty 
aud  as  miserable  as  thou  thuikest  thyself,  that  was  w'.y  I 
prayed  to  God  to  gravt  m«  His  ^race.    The  Lord,"  added 


fe..i 


LIfV    or    IT.    ILIIABim, 


'1 


this  blemcd  Qncen,  '  did  with  mc  what  the  skilful  iniMiini 
docs  with  his  harp— disposing  all  its  chords  so  as  to  |ir<>()t„.^ 
the  most  liarmoiiioos  soand.      It  was  thas  the  Lor* I  »,,^^ 
pleased  to  adapt  to  His  good  pleasure  mj  soul,  mj  heart,  u\i 
mind,  and  all  my  senses.    Thus  governed  by  His  wIr  lom,  j 
was  often  borne  by  the  angels  to  God's  presence,  and  tlxn  i 
experienced  so  much  joy,  and  sweetness,  and  eonsoiatini, 
that  this  world  was  entirely  banished  from  my  memory.    So 
familiar  was  I  with  Qod  and  His  angels,  that  it  seemed  ns  if 
I  lived  always  with  this  holy  court.    Then  when  it  plcflRcii 
the  Almighty  Father,  I  was  again  brought  by  the  aiigols  to 
the  place  where  I  had  been  praying.    When  I  found  mvHiIf 
again  upon  earth,  and  remembered  where  I  had  been,  this 
thought  so  inflamed  my  soul  with  such  a  love  of  God,  that  I 
embraced  the  earth,  the  stones,  the  trees,  and  all  created 
things  through  affection  for  their  Creator.    I  wished  to  he 
the  servant  of  all  the  holy  women  who  dwelt  in  the  temple ; 
I  wished  to  be  subject  to  all  creatures  through  love  for  tlie 
8upren:<)  Father.  Thou  shouldst  do  this  also;  but  thou  askest 
thyself  always,  '  Why  are  such  favours  granted  to  me  who 
am  so  unworthy  to  receive  them  P  and  then  thou  fallest  into 
a  kind  of  despair  and  distrust  of  the  goodness  of  God.    Be 
careful  not  to  speak  thus  any  more,  for  it  displeases  God, 
who,  like  a  good  master,  can  confer  his  benefits  on  whom  he 
pleases,  and  who,  like  a  wise  father,  knows  what  is  best 
suited  to  each  child.     In  fine,"  said  her  heavenly  instructress, 
in  conclusion,  "I  have  come  to  thee  by  a  special  favour;  this 
night  I  am  thine;  ask  what  thou  pleasest,  I  will  answer  all." 
Elizabeth  dared  not  at  first  avail  herself  of  this  permission, 
but  Mary  having  a  second  time  exhorted  her  to  speak,  she 
asked,  "  Tell  me,  dearest  lady,  why  you  so  ardently  desired 
to  see  the  virgin  who  was  to  bring  forth  the  Son  of  God  V 
The    the  blessed  Mother  related  to  her,  how  in  seeking  cod- 
lolation  in  the  absence  of  the  supernatural  favonrs  of  wbick 


•r  ■vvoAmr. 


t5l 


iie  hnd  ipoken,  the  had  been  ted,  hj  medilatln^  on  the  wordf 
of  tlip  propheU,  to  cherish  this  ide« ;  thnt  she  resoWed  to 
consorrate  her  firginity  to  Qod,  in  order  that  she  mii^ht  bo 
wurtlij  to  serve  that  predestined  Tirgin;  and  how,  at  lenfi^b, 
a>l  (I(  Iji^ed  to  rcreal  to  her  that  she  was  the  woman  reserred 
for  this  high  dignity. 

Some  time  after,  as  Elizabeth  prayed  with  ferronr,  hef 
ten(K>r  Mother  appeared  to  her  again,  «nd  said,  "  My  child, 
tlioii  tliiiikest  that  I  receired  all  these  graces  without  tronble, 
bat  it  was  not  so.  Indeed  I  say  unto  thee  that  I  did  not 
receive  a  single  faTonr  from  Qod  without  unceasing  prayer, 
tnlent  desire,  sincere  defotion,  many  tears  and  trials.  Be 
certain  tiiat  no  grace  comes  to  the  soul  without  prayer,  and 
the  mortification  of  the  body.  When  we  have  giren  to  Ood 
lU  tiiat  we  can  Arom  ourselrcs,  however  little  it  may  be,  He 
risits  onr  souls,  and  imparts  to  them  these  wonderful  gifts, 
that  make  them  feel  how  trifling  are  their  efforts  to  please 
God.  The  soul  then  becomes  in  its  own  eyes  more  con* 
temptiblo  than  ever.  What  then  should  this  creature  do? 
Render  fervent  thanks  to  God  for  these  favours.  When  Ood 
Bees  the  soul  humble  and  thankful,  He  repleaishes  it  with 
joys  greater  than  its  most  ardent  hopes  could  conceive.  It 
was  in  this  manner  He  acted  towards  me  when  He  deputed 
His  angel  Gabriel  to  me..  What  did  I  then  ?  I  knelt,  and 
joining  my  hands  humbly,  I  said,  *  Behold  the  handmaid  of 
the  Lord,  be  it  done  unto  me  according  to  thy  word.'  Then 
God  gave  me  His  Son,  and  with  him  the  seven  gifts  of  the 
Iloly  Ghost.  And  wouldst  thon  know  why?  Because)  I 
believed  in  His  word,  and  humbled  myself  before  Him ;  1 
tell  thee  these  things,  my  child,  that  thou  mayest  corr(Hrt 
thy  failings  in  the  virtues  of  Faith  and  Hope.  When  the 
Lord  shall  have  promised  any  grace  say,  like  me,  '  Behold 
)by  handmaid,'  and  expect  in  firm  faith  the  coming  of  that 
grace,  until  the  promise  shall  be  accomplished.    And  if  jit 


'm 


i 


>'  1 


illVl 
%m'  1 


•54 


LIFE    Q»   AT.    JILIIABETH, 


I 


eomea  not,  eay  tbat  thoa  hast  oomtnitttd  some  fluilt  whick 
biu  rendered  thee  unworthy  of  its  falfiiment." 

During  the  vigil  of  Christmas,  Elizabeth  begged  of  the 
Lord  to  grant  her  grace  to  love  Him  with  her  whole  heart ; 
llie  Bloseed  among  women  appeared  t»  her  again  and  asked, 
"Who  is  it  that  loves  God?  Dost  thonT  The  humble 
Elizabeth  dared  not  affirm  that  she  did,  and  yet  was  unwiHing 
to  deny  it.  While  she  hesitated  to  answer,  Mary  continued : 
"  Dost  thon  wish  that  I  should  tell  thee  who  loved  Him.  Tho 
blessed  Bartholomew  did,  as  likewise  did  St.  John  and  Saint 
Lawrence.  Wouldst  thou,  like  them,  endure  being  flayed 
alive,  or  burned  for  His  sake?''  Elizabeth  remaining  still 
silent,  Mary  resumed  :  "  Indeed  I  say  unto  thee,  if  thon  wilt 
consent  to  be  deprived  of  all  that  is  dear,  precious  and  love- 
able  to  thse,  and  even  of  thy  own  will,  I  will  obtain  for  thee 
the  same  reward  that  Bartholomew  received,  when  his  skm 
was  flayed  off.  If  thou  endurest  insults  patiently,  thou  wilt 
be  like  unto  Lawrence  when  he  suffered  martyrdom  ;  if  thou 
keepest  silence  when  reproached  and  offended,  thou  wilt  merit 
grace,  as  John  did  when  the  wicked  sought  to  poison  him , 
and  in  all  this  I  will  be  near  to  instruct  and  fortify  thee." 

One  day,  when  at  meditation,  Elizabeth  thought  upon  the 
prayers  the  holy  Virgin  had  told  her  she  mode  in  the  Temple, 
she  asked  herself,  .'*  Why  did  Mary  seek  for  graces  that  never 
failed  her."  The  Queen  of  heaven  appeared,  and  answered 
her  with  gentle  sweetness  and  fiEtmiliarity.  "  I  did,"  said  she, 
"as  a  roan  who  would  wish  to  construct  a  fair  fountaio. 
Re  goes  to  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  examines  carefully  whence 
spriujrs  the  water,  he  digs  until  he  finds  the  source,  and  then 
directs  the  stream  to  the  spot  wherein  he  would  have  his  foun- 
tain ;  this  place  he  constructs,  so  that  the  water  must  remain 
pure  and  fresh  ;  he  surrounds  his  fountain  with  a  wall,  erects 
a  pillar,  and  all  around  he  makes  canals  wherein  thd  water 
Bif^  flow  {ilentifully,  for  the  eomlbrt  of  all.    Thus  did  I  act 


OF    BCNOART. 


995 


1     .  ^ 


^]  went  to  the  mountain  when  I  began  to  study  the  Hoty 
Law.  I  found  the  source,  when  I  learned  that  to  love  God 
with  the  whole  heart  was  the  origin  of  all  good.  I  prepared 
the  place,  when  I  conceived  the  desire  of  loving  all  that  Ho 
loved.  I  willed  that  the  water  should  be  pure  and  clear, 
when  I  resolved  to  Ay  and  hate  sin.  I  surrounded  it  with 
walls,  when  I  joined  humility,  patience  and  meekness,  to  the 
fire  of  charity.  I  erected  the  pillar  and  formed  the  caualn, 
when  I  became,  as  it  were,  an  universal  refuge,  for  I  am 
always  ready  to  bring  floods  of  grace  and  consolation  from  On 
IIig:h  to  those  who  invoke  me  for  themselves  or  others.  I 
have  revealed  to  thee,"  said  she  in  conclusion,  "  my  beloved 
daughter,  all  the  prayers  that  I  used,  in  order  that  by  my  ex 
ample  thou  shouldst  supplicate  God  in  all  confidence  and  hu- 
mility for  all  thou  requirest.  Kuowest  thou  why  virtues  are 
not  equally  given  to  all  men  ?  Because  some  know  not  how 
to  ask  them  with  such  humility,  nor  preserve  them  with  so 
much  care  as  others  ;  that  is  why  God  wishes  that  he  who  has 
less  should  be  aided  by  those  who  possess  more.  And  I  wish 
that  thou  shouldst  pray  fervently  for  thy  own  salvation  and 
that  of  others."  These  wonderful  interviews  over,  Elizabeth 
saw  one  day  a  tomb  covered  with  flowers,  out  of  which  her 
8wcet  Consolatrix  arose  and  was  borne  to  Heaven  by  myriads 
of  celestial  spirits  who  conducted  her  to  the  arms  of  her  divine 
Son.  An  angel  came  to  explain  to  her  this  vision  of  the  As- 
sumption, which  was  granted  as  a  favour  intended  to  enable 
her  to  endure  her  present  sufiferings,  and  also  to  foreshow 
the  glory  which  God  had  in  store  for  her,  should  she  per* 
severe  to  the  end  faithful  and  docile  to  His  divine  will. 

The  humble  servant  of  Christ,  in  relating  these  prodigies, 
Kild  that  she  had  seen  and  understood  them  in  a  manner  so 
clear  and  convincing  that  she  would  rather  die  than  deny  their 
existence. 

It  was  thus  that  God  even  in  this  world  rewarded  Hif 


^  V 


-..^ll 


vy 


256 


LIFE    or    8T.     BLIZABBTB, 


faithful  servant.  He  gave  Himself  as  Spouse  to  the  sulitar; 
widow,  to  the  young  and  sorely  afflicted  woman.  He  gave 
to  her  as  mother  and  mistress,  Her,  who  is  at  once  the  mother 
of  mercies  and  of  sorrows.  To  the  soul  deprived  of  all  earthly 
consolation,  He  even  in  this  vale  of  tears  opened  the  inezhaoi. 
tille  and  imperishable  treasures  of  heaTen 


m 


It. 


■i  -  ;i-^teJ^«t ,  'vM^  "t^mit'mi 


♦ 


I  .Ui^. 


•f    MffVO^IIT. 


9ft7 


CHAPTER  XX 

low  THE  DBAB  8T.  EUZABETR  REFUSED  TO  MAWtT  A  8B0ONI  TI1I% 
A>D  HOW  SOB  CONSBORATBD  UBJI  WB|>OU<«  9^Jp|B^'T8  TO  JBSU8| 
TUii:  SPOUSE  Of  Bfitt  SOUL. 

•«  Eno  dllecto  meo,  et  dileetas  ra«aa  mibi,  qal  pudtor  later  lUU.**— OiiUL  t1.  t. 

"Tlie  true  widow  in  the  Ohnroh  is  » little  violet  of  M«roh,  whloh  sends  fotth  a» 
Incomparable  sweetneM  by  the  odour  of  her  devotion,  and  almost  always  Iceepi 

herii'lf  concealed  und^r  the  broa«l  leaves  uf  her  abjection She  grows  in  cool 

inil  uncultivated  places,  not  willing  to  be  hnportoned  witli  the  conversatiooa  «f 
worMlings,  the  better  to  preserve  tlie  oooIquos  of  her  iieart  against  all  the  heats  wbioh 
Uiu  (lu:>ire  of  riehea,  of  honours,  or  even  of  fond  litres  might  bring  upon  her."— <SI 
f, -1111018  de  Sales^  Intro.  ilL  2. 

The  melancholy  state  to  whic|i  tbis  Prineess  of  birth  so 
illostrious,  aud  conaected  with  tl^e  most  powerful  houses  of 
the  empire,  was  reduced,  could  not  fail  to  excite  the  compas- 
tion  and  intervention  of  her  relatives,  as  ^on  as  it  became 
known  to  them,  The  Ducuess  Sophia,  after  m^'l'^iiiS  many 
aiisuccessful  efforts  to  prevail  on  her  sons  to  (^meliorate  the 
condition  of  poor  Elizabeth,  sent  secretly  to  inform  her  aunt^ 
Matilda,  Abbess  of  ^itzingen,  sister  of  the  Qi^een  of  Hungary, 
her  mother,  of  her  misfortunes.  This  pious  princess  wa^ 
moved  with  compassion  on  hearing  the  sad  tale,  and  sent  a^ 
once  faithful  messengers,  with  two  carriages,  to  seek  for  he^ 
uiece  and  her  children,  and  to  bring  them  to  the  Abbey,  £li^ 
2ii))cth,  oveijoyed  to  be  again  with  her  little  ones  whom  she 
loved  so  ardently,  accepted  this  invitation  at  once  ;  and  i( 
seems  that  her  persecutors  dared  not  to  hinder  her  so  doing. 
Bo  she  travelled  through  the  vast  forests  and  over  the  monn* 
tains  that  separate  Tburingia  from  Franconiai  trntil  ihe 
irrived  at  Kitiiogen  on  the  y  aiot 


:  :  Hi 


1    ■'  t'i 


13  ' 


,H 


J 

i 


4|f  il 


I 


258 


LIFB    or    8T       BLIZABITB, 


I 


H  ,1 


Tfie  Abbess  restiTcd  her  with  maternal  tenderness,  ami 
many  tears  ;  she  assigned  her  a  lodging  suitable  to  her  raiik, 
and  strove  by  her  kindness  to  make  her  forget  the  many  siif 
ferings  of  soul  and  body  which  she  had  endured.  But  the 
young  Duchess  found  no  sweeter  consolation  than  in  conform, 
ing  to  the  rule  of  the  monastic  life,  and  she  often  cxpresseil 
a  regret  that  the  care  of  her  childrer  prevented  her  from  en- 
tering the  Order  as  a  religious.  Me^u while  Egbert,  Prince 
Bisliop  of  Bamberg,  brother  of  th>  /  bbess  Matilda,  of  the 
Duchess  Hedwige  of  Poland,  of  Queen  Gertrude,  and  conse- 
quently maternal  uncle  of  Elizabeth,  having  heard  of  her  suf- 
ferings and  of  her  arrival  at  Kitzingen,  thought  that  her  pro 
longed  sojourn  in  the  Monastery  was  neither  suited  to  her 
position,  nor  to  the  customs  of  a  religious  house,  so  he  invltid 
her  to  his  dominions.  The  gentle  Princess  obeyed,  though 
perhaps  with  regret,  leaving  to  the  care  of  her  aunt  her  se- 
cond daughter  Sophia,  then  scarcely  two  years  old,  who  after- 
wards took  the  veil  in  this  abbey,  which  had  served  as  aa 
asylum  to  her  mother,  and  which  had  been  the  cradle  of  lier 
own  childhood.  The  Prelate  gave  his  niece  a  welcome,  such 
as  tended  to  convince  her  of  his  affection  for  herself,  and  of 
respect  for  her  misfortunes.  He  proposed  to  conduct  her  to 
Hungary  to  the  king,  her  father,  but  this  sht  refused,  owing 
probably  to  the  sad  remembrance  of  the  death  of  her  mother, 
Queen  Gertrude.  The  bishop  then  assigned  to  her  the  castle 
of  Botenstein  as  a  residence,  this  he  furnished  according  to 
her  rank,  and  provided  eight  domestics,  over  all  of  whom  she 
might  rule  as  she  pleased.  Hither  then  she  went  with  her 
children,  and  her  faithful  maidens,  Ysentrude  and  Guta,  wlio 
had  nobly  shared  in  all  her  trials,  and  in  this  peaceful  home 
they  resumed  by  day  and  by  night  their  practices  of  piety. 
But  the  Prelate,  seeing  that  Elizabeth  was  very  young,  being 
6nty  twenty  years  old,  and  besides  of  remarkable  beauty- 
remembering  the  precept  of  St.  Pad,  he  conceived  the  pro 


OT    BCNOART. 


iier  the  castle 


jicl  of  re-marrjing  her.  According  to  nany  aathora,  he 
wished  that  she  should  wed  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  who 
bad  just  lost  his  'jeeond  wife,  Yolande  of  Jerusalem.  The 
£m|)6r:»r  himself  was  also  anxious  for  this,  according  to  the 
account  of  a  contemporary  writer.  The  Bishop  went  to  cooh 
tutiiiicate  to  the  Duchess  his  design  ;  he  told  her  that  he 
wished  to  espouse  her  to  a  lord  far  more  illustrious  and  powe^ 
ful  than  her  late  husband.  Elizabeth  replied  with  great  sweet- 
Dc.s.':,  that  she  would  prefer  remaining  single  during  the  rest 
of  her  life,  and  thus  to  serve  God  alone.  Her  uncle  main- 
tained that  she  was  still  too  young  to  embrace  such  a  life,  he 
reminded  her  of  tho  persecutions  she  already  had  suffered, 
and  showed  her  the  possibility  of  their  renewal  after  his 
death  ;  for  though  he  resolred  to  leave  her  Botensteiu  and  ita 
dcpendancies,  once  in  the  tomb,  he  could  not  defend  her  from 
the  attacks  of  her  enemies.  But  Elizabeth  wavered  not.  A 
French  poet  has  preserved  her  answer : — "  Sire,"  said  the 
beauteous  and  pious  princess,  "  I  had  for  lord  a  husband  who 
most  tenderly  loved  me,  and  who  was  always  my  loyal  friend. 
1  shared  in  his  honour  and  in  his  power  ;  I  had  much  of  the 
riches, 'jewels,  and  pleasures  of  the  world  ;  I  had  all  these, 
but  I  always  thought,  what  you,  my  lord,  know  full  well, 
that  the  joys  of  this  earth  are  worthless.  For  this  reason  I 
wish  to  abandon  the  wordly  life,  and  to  pay  to  God  what  I 
owe  Him,  the  debts  of  my  soul.  You  know  that  mundane 
pleasures  produce  but  pains  and  torments,  and  the  death  of 
the  soul.  Sire,  I  am  eager  to  join  the  followers  of  our  bless- 
ed Lord.  I  ask  but  one  thing  on  earth  :  I  have  two  children 
of  my  late  husband,  wh  J  will  be  rich  and  poweiful,  (Hermann 
and  the  elder  Sophia  who  were  not  destined  to  the  monastic 
life,)  I  would  rejoice  and  be  grateful  to  God,  if  He  loved  me 
sufficiently,  to  take  them  to  Himself.*' 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  Duchess  then  spoke  of  the  vow 
of  continence  which  she  had  made  during  her  husband's  lif» 


'1    .. 


V  4  'I 


>.4 


if? 


106 


I,X?I    Of    >  T.    kil^ABETH, 


.l! 

ti  ^ 

ft 


ttme,  !h  case  of  her  sarvtvlr.;^;  him,  bfff  shte  bftftfi  ttictitionH 
'It  to  hrt*  maids  of  honour,  who  had  madie  a  siifiilar  Vow  with 
hfet,  and  who  feared  that  the  Bishop  Wotild  fexcrt  h!&  power 
to  annul  it.  She  strove  to  inspire  thecft  with  tanmg^,  by  an 
to^drance  of  her  own  perseverance  utider  any  (Jifduinstftnccs. 

'*  I  have  sworn,"  said  she,  "  to  God,  ttnd  to  Wiy  lord  and 
hnsbatid  dating  his  life,  that  nevet  tr<rald  I  be  the  wife  of  any 
other  man.  God,  who  reads  the  heart  and  trnVeils  its  i.ost 
'Secret  thotights,  knows  that  I  tainde  this  Vow  w!fh  a  pi!r« 
"heart  and  a  firm  resolntion.  I  rely  oh  His  itteiry — it  is  im 
possible  but  th^t  He  will  defend  my  chastity  iigaiiigt  all  the 
projects  of  m*jn  and  against  their  violencfe.  Mittift  w^s  no!  a 
conditional  vow,  made  in  case  tha%  it  8h<)uld  please  my  part  ntg 
and  friends-^bnt  a  free,  willing,  lind  absolute  me  to  coi:so 
tttite  myself  entirely,  after  the  drnth  of  iny  beloved  husband, 
to  the  glory  of  my  Creator.  If  they  then,  in  contempt  of  the 
freedom  of  choice  in  marriage,  espouse  me  to  any  man,  1 
will  protest  against  it  before  the  Aitaf,  and  if  I  fihd  ho  other 
meani?  of  escaping,  I  will  cut  off  my  nose,  and  thus  render 
myself  an  object  of  horror  to  all."  Still  she  was  disquieted 
on  this  ii'count,  for  from  the  fitra  will  of  the  Bishop,  slie 
knew  she  would  have  many  and  severe  conflicts  t^  endure  iu 
brder  to  remain  faithful  to  God  and  her  conscience.  She  waa 
ieissed  with  a  great  sadness.  She  had  i'eConr^  to  the  Supreme 
Consoler,  and  kneeling  at  His  feet,  bathed  in  tears,  she  begged 
of  Him  to  watch  over  the  tr^asurfe  she  hftd  cOttsfecrated  to 
Him.  She  also  addressed  hetftelf  to  the  Qaeen  of  Virgina, 
who  had  been  given  to  her  as  4  mbtheS*.  Neitheir  disdained 
hef  prayers,  aad  peace  was  restored  to  her  bohI.  Bhe  soon 
felt  qnite  tranquillized,  and  toiifiated  with  boilndlesd  conO* 
flence  iti  the  mercy  '6f  Heaven. 

It  is  doubtless  to  this  time  that  the  felcltafs  Of  Idbial  tradi- 
tions, reliatitig  to  some  journeys  made  hf  EliMbeth,  te^r,  and 
flreie  she  ondertook,  either  to  escafie  tiie  iiAportobitiM  of  het 


Of  avxiART. 


^m 


I 


incle,  6r  to  tndalge  seme  motives  Of  derotioh  or  piool 
cariosity. 

These  causes  woold  soffice  in  that  ftge,  notHrithstanding 
the  difficolty  of  commanicstioD,  to  make  teen  travel  more, 
than  coald,  even  in  Our  day,  the  desire  of  accnmnlating 
Hi  lies  or  the  restlessness  of  modern  iratellers.  The  poor, 
i;  iufirm,  even  women  yielded  tO  the  des?re  of  praying  in 
KOiO'7  -iclf'^^ratcL  ^ahctnary,  olr  of  VeneriEiting  the  relic**  of  some 
especially  brlovvjd  8i!nt — ^lo  pl-otide  for  their  old  oge  somi 
Kwoet  mctnories  of  pilgrimages  made  nnder  the  protection  of 
God  and  of  Hip  liOly  attgels. 

Elizftbeth  iVont  twice  to  Blrfurth,  a  town  celebrated  for 
tb'  niinber  and  beanty  of  its  suered  edifices,  situated  iu  th^ 
cottre  ol  her  husband^s  dominidns,  though  belonging  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Mayeuce.  She  here  selected  aS  her  dwellings 
place,  a  cohv^n^  of  penitent  Wonren,  called  White  Nttns,  and 
there  she  remained  during  sevet'al  days  ih  the  most  strict 
retreat.  When  leiiving,  She  gave  them  the  glass  which  she 
was  wont  to  tis^  at  her  frugal  hiigkls,  which  is  still  preserved 
there  as  a  mehiorial  of  her  j^oodhess  and  hnnulity.  Tlie 
convent  is  how  occhpied  by  a  commnnity  ot  Ursnlin'es,  and 
they  show  a  little  room  looking  over  the  Ohnrch,  which,  it  is 
said,  was  occupied  by  the  dfear  St.  Elizabeth.  Abbot  th\i 
time,  she  also  weht  to  visit  the  dwelling  of  her  maternal  an* 
cestors  at  Andechs,  situated  dh  k  height  near  the  Alps  which 
Bcparate  Bavaria  from  the  Tyrol.  This  ahcient  and  famoas 
Castle  had  been  jttst  converted  by  Heni7,  Margrave  of  Istriir, 
also  an  nncle  of  Elizabeth,  Ihto  A  nibnastery  of  Benedictines,  or 
according  to  others,  of  regular  canons  of  St.  Augustine,  which 
has  since  been  rendered  remarkable  bjr  the  possession  of  some 
of  the  nibst  precious  relics  in  Christendbni,  and  by  the  nnm©- 
fons  mirac'es  performed  there— Elizabeth  caiie  to  associate; 
by  h(T  presence,  in  the  piOnis  f^tiiidntion  whidk  shbnid  forcvet 
tend  to  the  hononr  tk  her  fatnHy.    From  the  iommit  of  thtt 


•, »: 


if 


<^  J 


i    > 


!  ^ 


w 


■il? 


LIFE    OF    IT.    XLISAUITB, 


14 


holy  moantain  she  contemplated  Bavaria,  then  rich  in  the 
double  beauty  of  nature  and  religion — ^full  of  celebrated  mo- 
nasteries, some  hidden  in  the  midst  of  the  andout  forests-, 
others  reflected  io  the  calm  waters  of  the  lakes  of  that  cous). 
try — all  serring  as  nurseries  of  the  Christian  civilization  of 
the  land,  and  which  for  so  many  centuries  still  offered  an  in 
violablc  sanctuary  to  science,  a  sweet,  safe  asylum  to  souls 
eager  for  repose  and  prayer,  and  a  boundless  hospitality  to 
the  numerous  pilgrims  who  went  by  the  northern  kingdoms  tc 
visit  the  tombs  of  the  Apostles.  How  many  times  did  oar 
Klizabeth  fix  her  eyes  on  the  majestic  chain  of  the  mountains 
of  the  Tyrol,  where  every  Catholic  heart  rejoices  in  thinking 
that  beyond  them  lie  Italy  and  Rome  I 

Our  dear  Saint  also  contributed  to  the  veneration  with 
which  this  beautiful  pliuse  was  regarded.  At  the  foot  ^of 
the  mountain  by  her  prayers  she  obtafncd  that  a  well  of  pure 
water,  gifted  with  many  healing  qualities,  should  spring  up, 
and  so  abundantly  that  it  was  never  dry  even  during  the 
most  parched  seasons.  The  pious  princess  also  brought  to 
this  place,  which  had  just  passed  from  the  protection  of  her 
family  to  that  of  the  All-powerful  God,  a  loved  memorial  of 
her  married  life,  which,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  she 
offered  to  the  chosen  Spouse  of  her  soul.  Tliis  was  her  wed- 
ding robe — even  that  worn  by  her  on  Hie  day  that  saw  her 
united  to  her  well-beloved  Louis.  This  she  laid  upon  tlie 
Altar,  and  gave  at  the  same  time  to  the  religious  a  little  sil- 
f  cr  cross  containing  some  relics  of  the  instruments  of  the  pas- 
sion ;  her  Pax  or  the  Reliquary  she  always  carried  with  her, 
and  several  other  matters  which  were  dear  to  her. 

A  few  years  passed  by,  and  the  name  of  the  young  widow, 
whom  we  have  seen  coming  as  an  humble  pilgrim  to  offer  her 
gifts  at  this  newly-formed  sanctuary,  filled  the  Christian  world 
with  its  glory,  and  the  hand  of  God's  vicegerent  on  parth  in- 
icribed  It  amongst  the  blessed  ones  of  Heaven.    Can  we  tx 


OV    HCVOAir. 


Bftjnished  if  thenceforth  the  presenUi  of  this  Saint  should 
become  to  this  sacred  place,  priceless  treasures,  and  that  even 
to  tiiis  day,  notwithstanding  past  stormy  and  gloomy  years, 
the  simple  and  faithful  people  still  come  to  venerate  and  kiss 
Uiem  with  respectful  love. 

NOTE  BT  THE  COUNT  MONTALEMBEBT. 

The  monastery  of  Andechs  on  the  occasion  of  the  secalar 
ization  of  all  the  possessions  of  religious  orders  by  king  Max- 
imilian of  Bavaria  in  1806  was  sold  to  a  Jewt  yet  the  Church- 
and  its  treasury  of  relics  have  been  preserved.  The  wedding 
robe  of  Elizabeth  serves  there  as  a  covering  to  three  miraca- 
lous  Hosts.  On  the  principal  festivals  of  the  year,  a  number 
of  pilgrims  meet  there,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbour- 
ing  villages  come  processionally,  chaunting  Litanies.  An- 
dechs is  about  eight  leagues  from  Munich,  near  the  lovely 
lake  Staremberg.  From  the  height  on  which  the  Church  is 
built,  the  eye  embraces  the  entire  chain  of  the  Tyrolian  Alps. 
Few  places  in  Germany  are  more  worthy  the  visit  of  the 
Catholic  traveller.  Those  who  can  go  there,  are  requested 
to  remembe.'  before  God's  Altar,  the  author  of  this  book. 

Note. — The  translator  entreats  the  pious  pilgrim  to  th« 
Holy  Shrine  at  Andechs,  to  pny  also  for  her,  aod  ali  thoM 
•he  holds  dear. 


'  'If 


w^ 


LIVE    ff    tl.    |kl.A<ABItB« 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BOW    TBI    DIAB    ST.    KUZ4DftnD     RECEirCD     TBI     RKMAim    07    HA 
BUSBAHO,  AMP  BOW   THXT    WPIUS   DTrBHRIU)   AT  RBYMnARTSBKlNN. 

f  ^D«dlett  TM  Domloo,  qui  r«cUtls  misertconlUm  b«ao  earn  DttoBlao  rmtro, «! 

sepellatis  eum/'— 3  /f«{r.  U.  {S. 

"Requiem  Ubl  debit  Domlnus  M>inper,  et  Implebit  apileiidoribue  fotmam  taena, 

•t  OBMi  tuA  dberabH.**-/*.  IvUI.  i. 


I 


i- 


So«bce:.t  had  Elizabeth  retnrned  to  Botenstein  when  a 
oaesseiigbr  from  tlie  Bishop  came  to  request  her  presence  ut 
Bamberg,  in  order  to  receive  th«  remains  of  her  husbaDd 
which  the  Thdiingian  knights,  after  their  r^tarn  from  the 
OruAade,  wei-«  bringing  there. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  the  companions  of  the  late  Dulse, 
after  having  left  his  body  at  Otranto,  set  ont  for  Syria  in  or- 
der to  accomplish  their  vow.  Those  amongst  them  who  wore 
able  to  reach  Jerusalem,  offered  there  gifts  and  prayers  for 
his  intentions,  as  he  had  requested  them  on  his  death-bed. 
On  their  return  from  the  pilgrimage,  tliey  passed  through 
Otranto  in  order  to  bring  home  the  body  of  their  Sovereign. 
Thev  disinterred  him,  and  found  that  his  bones  were  white  as 
Buow,  a  sure  sign  in  that  age  that  the  husband  had  preserved 
•n  inviolate  fidelity  to  his  wife. 

After  having  placed  these  relics  in  a  rich  coffin,  they  kid 
it  on  a  hearse  and  set  out  for  their  own  country.  Before  the 
bier  was  a  large  silver  cross,  inlaid  with  precious  stones,  as  a 
mark  of  their  own  piety  and  of  their  devotion  to  their  master. 
In  enery  city  where  they  passed  a  night,  they  brought  the 
bier  into  a  Church,  and  had  it  watched  by  monks  or  other 


Of    HUNOAIir. 

ploii<^  persons,  ehannfcing  the  oiBce  of  the  dead  uad  otho^ 
prayers. 

They  departed  not  next  dnj  ant'rl  thej  had  heord  Mass 
ind  made  their  offerings.  If  it  were  at  a  Cathedral  or  Coih 
Tcntual  Chnrcb,  they  left  the  pnrple  drapery  that  enveloped 
the  coffin,  that  its  worth  mi^ht  be  distributed  in  alms  for  the 
repose  of  the  good  prince's  soul.  In  man's  memory  were 
never  Witnessed  more  solemn  obseqaies. 

The  monrnfal  cortege  thus  traversed  all  Italy  and  southern 
Germany.  When  arrived  at  a  ^hort  distance  from  Bamberg, 
titoy  sent  to  Warn  the  Bishop  Of  their  approach,  and  he  im- 
mediately summoned  the  Duchess  from  Botenstein.  At  the 
RSiue  time,  he  ordered  all  the  nobles  and  dignitariei  of  his 
court  to  mci^t  her  with  befitting  sympathy,  and  to  watch 
carefully  over  her,  lest  dnring  the  affecting  ceremony  of  the 
next  day  her  strength  might  abandon  her.  He  then  went 
out  to  meet  the  body,  accompanied  by  all  his  clergy,  the  re- 
ligious of  the  yarions  monasteries,  and  the  children  of  the 
Fichools  ;  an  immense  crowd  folIOi^ed  and  mingled  their  voices 
with  tlie  funeral  chaunts  of  the  priests,  and  with  the  sonnd  of 
all  the  bells  of  the  episcopal  city.  Several  nobles  joined  in 
the  procession.  The  body  was  conveyed  to  the  celebrated 
Cathedral,  where  the  bodies  of  the  Emperor  St.  Henry  and 
of  the  Empress  St.  Cunegunda  reposed.  During  the  whole 
night  the  office  for  the  dead  was  chaanted. 

The  next  day  Elizabeth,  accompanied  by  her  ever  faithful 
Ysentruie  and  Guta,  was  conducted  to  the  place  where 
the  precious  teWcs  reposed ;  they  opened  the  coffin  and  per- 
mitted her  to  look  upon  the  remains  of  hei"  husband.  "Then/* 
Bays  the  pious  narratOr  of  this  scene,  "  what  her  heart  felt  of 
grief  and  love  none  could  know  but  Him  who  reads  the 
lecrets  of  the  hearts  of  the  children  of  men.**  All  the  afflic- 
tion of  the  moment  wherein  she  first  learned  her  loss,  was 
renewed  in  her  Soul;  she  threw  herself  on  the  bones,  and 
12 


).  .J 


LirS    or    ST.     ILIfABKTII, 


>!' 


fonreiitly  kIsMd  them  ;  her  team  flowed  abandantly  ;  hor  a0 
tatioD  was  kg  violent  that  the  bishop  uitd  the  nobles  |)r«  s.  nt 
•trove  to  console  her  tud  to  letid  her  away  from  tin;  sa*] 
■pectaole.  But  she  remembered  God,  and  immediately  all 
her  strength  of  inin<l  was  rentored.  "  I  thanii  you,  O  Lord,** 
•aid  she,  **  for  having  deigned  to  Unten  to  my  prayer,  and  for 
having  granted  my  earnest  wish  in  pt>rmitting  mo  to  l<)oi[ 
upon  the  remains  uf  him,  my  beloved  and  yours.  I  tluink 
you  for  having  thus  consoled  my  afflicted  and  desolate  soul ; 
he  offered  himself,  and  I  also  offered  him,  to  you  for  the 
defence  of  your  Holy  Land.  I  regret  not  this  sacrilice, 
though  I  loved  him  with  all  my  heart's  ardour.  You  know, 
O  my  God,  how  I  loved  this  husband,  who  loved  you  so 
much  ;  you  know  that  I  would  prefer  him  to  all  the  deli<,'lits 
of  this  world,  if  your  goodness  permitted  it.  You  know.that 
with  him  I  would  be  willing  to  spend  my  life  in  misery,  und 
to  beg  my  bread  with  him  from  door  to  door,  throughout  the, 
whole  world,  solely  to  have  the  happiness  of  being  by  his  side, 
if  you  willed  it,  0  my  God  !  Now  I  resign  myself  and  him 
to  your  Divine  pleasure,  and  I  would  not,  even  if  I  could, 
purchase  him  back  again  at  the  price  of  a  single  hair  of  my 
head,  unless  it  was  agreeable  to  you,  my  good  God  1" 

This  was  the  last  cry  of  vanquished  nature,  the  last  sh^h 
of  the  earthly  affections  in  this  young  heart,  expiring  under 
the  yoke  of  Divine  love.  Having  spoken  these  words,  she 
dried  the  torrent  of  her  tears,  and  left  the  Church  in  silence. 
She  went  and  sat  in  a  little  grassy  cloister  near  the  cathedral, 
and  sent  to  the  Thuringian  knights  who  had  brought  tho 
body  of  her  husband,  to  come  and  meet  her  there.  At  their 
approach  she  arose  humbly  to  do  them  honour,  and  requested 
them  to  seat  themselves  around,  as  she  was  not  strong  enough 
to  remain  standing.  She  spoke  gently  to  them  for  a  long 
time,  and  asked  them,  in  the  name  of  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ, 
to  protect  her  little  children,  and  to  act  as  their  guardians 


OF    RUiVOART. 


i?li.  told  them  of  the  ''niel  conduct  of  the  Landgraves  llenry 
iiid  Conrad  to  them  and  to  herself,  and  of  the  misery  they 
lind  endured  at  Eisenach.  The  Bi.«hop  in  \m  turn  confirmed 
th<'  recital  of  the  Dqchess,  and  npoke  with  the  kniglits  on  the 
m'lins  to  be  used  to  repair  the  wrongs  done  to  the  widow 
mill  orphans  of  their  sovereign.  A  lively  indignation  waf 
miiiifestcd  by  the  pilgrims  when  they  heard  of  the  sufferingt 
of  the  young  Duchess.  They  declared  that  they  would  always 
reniird  her  as  their  lady  and  uiistress,  and  would  defend  her 
n;rainst  all.  At  their  head  was  the  noble  and  faithful  De 
Varila,  son  of  him  who  sixteen  years  before  brought  from 
her  father's  palace  the  princess  who  now  appealed  to  him  as 
a  betrayed  and  oppressed  widow  ;  he  thought  upon  the  oath 
which  his  father  had  sworn  to  king  Andrew  to  watch  over  his 
daujrhter,  and  with  his  broth ers-in-arms  he  requested  the 
prelate  to  confide  to  their  care  this  noble,  but  distressed 
family,  that  they  might  bring  them,  together  with  the  mortal 
remains  of  Duke  Louis,  to  Tliuringio,  where  they  vowed  that 
ample  justice  should  be  done  them.  Assured  by  their  pro- 
mises, and  by  their  renown  as  valiant  knights,  which  the 
events  of  the  late  crusades  served  materially  to  increase,  the 
bishop  consented,  and  entrusted  them  with  the  charge  of  her 
wiiose  defenders  they  had  constituted  themselves.  It  does 
not  appear  that  he  mentioned  his  project  of  a  second  mar- 
riage for  the  young  Duchess.  After  having,  himself,  cele- 
brated for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  defunct  prince  a 
solemn  pontifical  mass,  at  which  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
city  assisted,  and  having  generously  defrayed  the  expenses  of 
the  guests  during  their  sojourn  at  Bamberg,  he  bode  them 
farewell,  and  took  leave  also  of  the  Dtichess  and  her  children. 
Tiie  mournful  procession  set  out  for  the  abbey  of  Reyaharts- 
brunn,  where  the  pious  Lonis  had  chosen  his  burial  place. 
Meanwhile  the  news  of  the  arrival  of  the  remains  of  the 
beloved  sovereign  reached  Tharingia,  and  created  there  • 


fit  •»  1 


:M 


LIFE    QF      ST.     fLISLADKTH, 


!•! 


great  sensation.  Not  only  did  the  Duchess  Sophia,  mothet 
of  Louis,  with  her  sous,  Henry  and  Conrad,  liasten  to  Heyn 
hartsbrnun  to  meet  the  funeral^  but  also  t  je  counts,  lords, 
and  knights  of  the  country,  and,  in  remembrance  of  the  ^rood 
prince  who  had  so  tenderly  cared  for  and  energetically  pro. 
tected  them,  an  immense  multitude  of  people,  rich  and  pour, 
r»f  town  and  of  country,  men  and  women,  assembled  at  lU  vn- 
hartsbrunn  to  pay  the  last  honours  to  him  who  so  short  a 
time  befDre  parted  from  them  for  God's  honour  to  meet  under 
a  foreign  sHy  the  fate  of  a  too  premature  death. 

Many  motives  contributed  to  swell  this  crowd  ;  the  very 
natural  desire  to  see  who  of  the  crusaders  had  escaped  the 
perils  of  the  voyage,  brought  there  all  who  had  friends  or 
relatives  engaged  iu  the  Holy  Wars ;  and  also  the  interest 
which  was  everywhere,  but  at  Eisenach,  felt  for  the  Duclass 
Elizabeth,  the  recital  of  her  woes,  and  of  her  exile  which 
bad  been  heard  in  the  country,  and  the  wish  to  know  what 
should  become  of  this  young  and  defenceless  woman,  attracted 
thither  many  pious  and  compassionate  souls.  Several  bishops 
and  abbots  came  also  to  testify  their  respect  foy  t,he  champion 
of  the  Church  and  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  monks  from 
whom  he  had  parted  with  so  much  affection,  and  with  a  toe 
»tKely  realized  presentiment,  had  now  to  perform  the  sad  duty 
of  rendering  to  him  the  highest  honours  which  the  Church  de- 
crees to  her  departed  children  in  the  faith.  They  went  to  meet 
bis  body,  followed  by  a  great  number  of  the  secular  clergy,  and 
a  multitude  of  people  chaunting  psalms  and  hymns,  frequently 
interrupted  by  their  weeping.  The  obsequies  were  celebrated 
in  t  abbey  church,  in  presence  of  the  two  Duchesses,  and 
the  two  young  Landgraves,  who,  before  the  remains  of  Loui^, 
were  united  in  a  mutual  and  sincere  sorrow 

All  the  magnificence  of  ecclesiastical  ceremony  was  used 
on  this  occasion,  and  the  solemnities  were  prolonged  for  several 
iajB.    The  sighs  and  tears  of  the  poor  were  the  most  povol 


or  HuwaA^T. 


909 


tnd  beaaiifal  features  in  the  faneral  pomp.  Generoas  oiTer* 
inirs  were  given  to  the  Chorch,  and  abundant  alms  distributed 
to  t))c  indigent,  as  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  him  who  had 
go  well  loved  the  poor  and  venerated  the  Cimrch.  Uis  re- 
mains  were  enclosed  in  a  shri^e,  which  was  laid  in  a  tomb 
hewn  out  of  stone,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  remained 
exposed,  and  many  pilgrimages  were  made  to  visit  theoL 
The  people's  love,  and  the  gratitnde  of  the  monks,  decreed  to 
Louis  the  surname  of  the  pious,  under  which  he  is  known  io 
history,  and  which  was  confirmed  by  many  miraculous  cures 
obtained  at  his  tomb  through  his  invocation.  Thus  was  he 
(hiring  three  centuries  the  object  of  popular  veneration,  which, 
however,  was  never  confirmed  by  ecclesiastical  authority.  At 
the  present  day  the  Catholic  traveller  may  see  the  brokei^ 
stone  of  his  sepulchre  in  that  Church  which  is  no  longer  Cath,- 
olic.  In  contemplating  this  last  memorial,  we  cannot  refuse  ^ 
tribute  of  respect  ^nd  admiration  to  this  prince,  who,  though 
ttie  Church  has  not  enrolled  hiqn  an^ongst  her  holy  oo^k  wap 
it  least  tl;e  worthy  husbiuid  of  a  aaifii. 


'  » 


'  ;t 


«70 


Liri    or    IT.    XLIZABKTBi 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

■Oir  THt  THimTKOIAN  KNIflllTS  VADE  DUKB  HBIIHT  RBFKIIT  OF  BIS 
^TCXmffKSS,  AKD  HADE  niM  RENDER  AMPLE  JUSHCB  TO  Till 
DBaM  8T.    ELIZABETH. 


i;^ 


1.^ 


**Ap«rl  M  tnam  mtito,  et  causIs  omnlntn  flllornm  qui  pertrtnMnnt:   tperl  n 
taamy  deoeruo  qnodjtutum  ost,  et  Jadioa  inopom  et  puuperum."— Prov.  xxxi.  8  9. 

Immediately  after  the  termination  of  the  obsequies,  the 
Lord  Do  Varila  reminded  the  Thuringian  knights  who  sur- 
rounded the  Duchess  Elizabeth  of  the  pledge  they  had  given 
the  bishop  of  Bamberg  in  regard  to  his  niece.  They  retired 
to  deliberate  upon  it. 

"  We  rauGt  now,**  said  Lord  Rodolph,  "  keep  the  vow 
which  we  made  to  our  noble  prince,  and  to  our  lady  Elizabeth, 
who  has  already  endured  such  misery ;  otherwise,  I  very 
much  fear  that  our  conduct  will  deserve  for  us  the  eternal  Gre 
of  hell." 

All  understood  this  language,  for  in  those  times  the  bravest 
warriors  were  not  ashamed  of  being  guided  in  their  actions 
by  the  thought  of  another  life.  They  unanimously  resolved 
to  address  vigorous  remonstrances  to  the  Landgrave  Henry 
and  his  brother,  and  they  specially  charged  with  this  unplea 
sant  duty  four  kniglits,  whose  names,  says  the  historian, 
merit  to  be  preserved  with  immortal  glory.  These  were, 
first,  the  Lord  De  Varila,  great  cupbearer,  who  was  to  speak 
in  the  name  oi  all,  as  being  the  most  eloquent,  and  who,  with 
his  family,  was  most  attached  to  the  Duchess  ;  and  with  him, 
Ludolph  de  Berstetten,  Ilartwig  de  Herba,  and  Gaultier  do 
Varila,  related  to  Rodol[»h.  Preceded  by  these,  all  the 
knights  weut  to  meet  the  young  princes,  whom  they  found 


OP   h(;noar7. 


871 


•;«^ 


with  their  mother.  The  Lord  De  Varila,  taming  towards 
Duke  Henry,  addressed  to  him  the  foUowiiig  words,  which 
have  been  carefully  and  with  good  reason  recorded  in  the 
rlironicles  of  the  country  : — 

"  My  Lord,  my  friends  and  yonr  vassals  who  are  hero 
jir*  sent,  have  requested  me  to  speak  to  you  in  their  name. 
We  liave  heard  in  Francooia,  and  even  h«rc  in  Thurin;]jia,  of 
coiuluct  of  yours  so  blomeable,  that  it  has  filled  us  with 
consternation,  and  given  us  reason  to  blush  in  thinking 
tliat  in  our  country  and  amongst  our  princes,  so  much 
iiiipioty  a>ad  infidelity,  and  such  a  want  of  honour,  could  bo 
fuiind. 

"  Young  prince,  what  have  you  done,  and  who  has  given 
you  counsels  so  nefarious  ?  What  I  you  have  driven  igno- 
miiiiously  from  your  castles  and  from  your  cities,  as  if  she 
vns  a  wicked  woman,  your  brother's  wife,  the  afflicted 
wi'low,  tlie  daughter  of  an  iiiustrious  king,  whom,  on  the 
contrary,  you  should  have  honoured  and  consoled.  Forget- 
tini^  even  your  own  renown,  you  have  exposed  her  to  sutfeiiug 
a)i(l  left  her  to  wander  through  the  streets  as  a  mendicant. 
When  vour  brother  devoted  his  life  for  the  love  of  God,  his 
lifle  orphans,  whom  you  should  havo  defended  and  cherished 
like  a  faithful  guardian,  were  cruelly  repulsed  by  you,  and 
voii  knew  that  they  even  had  to  be  separated  from  their  dca? 
mother  to  prevent  them  dying  of  hunger  with  her.  Is  this 
your  fraternal  love?  Is  this  \rhat  you  learned  from  voor 
brother,  that  virtuous  prince,  who  would  not  act  in  such  a 
iimnner  towards  the  meanest  of  his  subjects  ?  No ;  the 
rudest  peasant  would  not  be  so  guilty  towards  one  of  his 
t'llows,  as  you,  a  prince,  have  been  to  your  brDther,  when 
♦he  went  to  fight  and  die  for  the  love  of  God  !  How  can 
w(»  now  trust  to  youi  fidelity  or  your  honour  ?  You  know 
that  as  a  knight  you  are  sworn  to  protect  widows  and 
orphan.s,  and  you  are  yourself  the  first  to  wrong  the  orphans 


272 


ItTM    Of    8T.     ELIZABKTR, 


and  the  widow  of  yonr  brother     I  tell  yoii  plainly  that  i?ncb 
conduct  cries  to  Hearen  for  yengeance." 

The  Duchess  Sophia,  on  hearing  thes6  ^ell-racrited  re- 
proaches addressed  to  her  son,  burst  into  tears.  The  younf^ 
Duke,  annoyed  and  ashamed,  hung  his  head,  without  ro| liv- 
ing. The  Lord  de  Varila  then  resumed  : — "  And,  my  Lord, 
whnt  had  you  to  fear  from  a  poor  weakly  womun,  anji^uish- 
stricken  and  alone,  without  friends  or  allies  in  this  country  ? 
What  injury  would  this  noble  and  virtuous  lady  have  (Imiu; 
yun,  even  if  she  had  remained  mistress  of  all  yoiir  castles? 
What  will  now  be  said  of  you  In  other  coontriea?  How 
shameful  I  I  blush  to  think  of  your  degradation.  Kr.ow 
that  yea  have  offended  Qod — that  you  have  dishonoured  thij 
country  of  Thuringia — that  you  have  sullied  your  own  fume 
and  that  of  your  noble  house  ;  and  I  fear,  indeed,  that  the 
wrath  of  God  will  fall  heavily  bn  Onf  latod,  u<iless  you  do 
penacce  before  Him,  and  become  reconciled  to  this  pious 
lady,  by  restoring  to  her  and  to  your  brother's  son  all  that 
of  which  you  have  unjustly  deprived  them." 

All  present  were  astonished  at  the  courageous  boldness  of 
the  noble  knight's  language,  and  Qod  made  use  of  his  wortJs 
to  touch  a  heart  which  had  long  remained  insensible  to  the 
inspirations  of  justice  and  piety. 

The  young  prince,  who  had  remained  silent  until  then, 
burst  into  tears,  and  wept  for  some  time  without  uttering  a 
word,  but  at  length  he  said — "  I  repent  sincerely  of  what  I 
have  done.  I  will  never  again  listen  to  those  who  counsell'd 
me  to  act  thus ;  restore  to  me  your  confidence  and  your 
friendship,  and  I  will  do  willingly  all  that  my  sister  Eliza- 
beth shall  require.  I  give  you  full  power  to  dispose  of  ray 
life  and  my  possession:^  as  you  will."  The  Lord  de  Varil% 
replied — "  'Tis  well  ;  that  is  the  only  means  of  escaping  the 
wrath  of  God."  Nevertheless,  Henry  could  not  refrain  from 
•ayiog,  in  a  low  voice— "  If  uy  sister  Elizabeth  owned  the 


G»    n  UNO  ART. 


27.1 


irhole  empire  of  Qermany,  none  of  it  would  she  retain  fof 
neiscif,  but  would  give  it  all  away  for  the  love  of  Ood." 

Do  Varila  then  went  with  his  companions  to  announce  to 
Eli/.aheth  the  result  of  his  remonstrances,  and  to  inform  hef 
tluit  hor  brother-in-law  was  anxious  to  ht  reconciled,  and  to 
do  li?r  justice.  When  they  began  to  speak  of  the  conditions  . 
to  he  imposed  on  Duke  Ilenry,  she  cried  out — "  I  want 
luitlier  his  castles  nor  his  riches,  nor  anything  that  would 
tonil  to  trouble  or  distract  me  :  but  I  would  be  grateful  to 
niv  brother-in-law  if  he  would  give  me  what  is  due  of  my 
dowry,  in  order  to  defray  the  expenses  of  what  I  wish  t« 
do  for  the  salvation  of  my  own  soul,  and  the  repose  of  that 
of  my  beloved  husband/* 

The  knights  then  conducted  Henry  to  Elizabeth.  He 
came  accompanied  by  his  mother  and  his  brother  Conrad. 
Wlien  he  saw  her,  he  begged  forgiveness  for  the  injuries  he 
bad  done  her,  said  that  he  regretted  them  Sincerely,  and 
that  he  would  moke  ample  atonement.  Elizabeth  answered 
by  embracing  him  tenderly  and  beginning  to  weep.  The 
two  brothers  and  the  Duchess  Sophia  mingled  their  tear!< 
with  hers,  and  the  valiant  warriors  could  no  longer  remain 
nnmoved  spectators  of  this  touching  scene,  and  they  too 
wept,  remembering  the  mild  and  gracious  prince  who  had 
been  the  connecting  link  of  all  this  family,  and  who  was  now 
hopelessly  lost  to  them.     * 

The  rights  of  the  children  were  also  secured,  particularly 
those  of  Hermann,  the  first-born,  and  lawful  heir  to  the 
duchies  of  Thnringia  and  Hesse.  The  Regency,  as  by  right, 
was  given  during  his  minority,  to  the  elder  of  his  uncles, 
the  Landgrave  Henry.  All  these  arrangements  concluded, 
the  crusader  knights  separated  to  return  to  their  castles  ;  and 
Elizabeth,  with  her  children,  accompanied  by  the  Duchtsa 
Sophia  and  the  young  Duke,  set  out  for  that  Wartburg  from 
thichshehad  been  so  heartlessly  expelled,  (a.  d.  1228-1229.) 
13* 


«74 


Liri    Of    HT      BLISABBfB, 


CnAPTER  XXIII 


sow  TBI  DEAR  SlIICT  ELIZABETH  RENOUNCBD  THE  WORLDLT  TIFI, 
AND,  IlETIRINO  TO  HtRBTRO,  ASSUMED  TORKK  THE  HABIT  OF  THI 
ORDER   OP  THE   GLORIOUS   SAINT  FRANCIS. 


i 
I 


"Un-*  A  petll  ftlOnmino,  htne  fiqutmn,  at  Inhabltorn  In  domo  Domino  omnlbu 
llcbns  viue  mc:.*  lu  vidcam  volnpUtem  DomlnL  .  .  .  Quoniiun  »b6C00dlt  me  li 
tab«nuculo  sao." — P»alm  xxvl.  7,  8,  f 

•♦  Pw  Pninclsl  clwrdula, 
Mantello.  tnntcaln, 
Porpanm  depntuiC 

Ancient  proMfor  St.  Elizabeth^  in  fK» 
Franciacan  Manual  of  Mlfli 

Duke  Henrt  was  faithful  to  his  promises,  and,  doring  all 
the  time  that  Elizabeth  remained  with  him,  be  stroTe  by  the 
most  respectful  affection  to  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  the 
many  sufferings  he  had  caused  lier  to  endure. 

He  restored  to  her  all  the  honours  due  to  her  rank,  and 
gave  her  full  liberty  to  continue  all  her  pious  exercises  and 
works  of  charity ;  and  these  she  resumed  with  her  wonted 
ardour.  About  this  time  she  founded  the  hospital  of  Saint 
Mary  Magdalene,  tX  Gotha,  which  she  had  planned  during 
her  husband's  life-time,  and  which  she  completed  at  her  returi) 
to  her  possessions. 

As  before,  her  love  for  the  poor  occupied  in  her  heart  all 
tliat  was  not  devoted  to  piayer  A<id  contemplation.  Freed 
by  her  widowhood  from  the  obligation  of  appearing  at  festival! 
and  public  ceremonies,  she  avoided  all  occasions  of  sliariog  in 
the  banquets  given  to  the  nobles,  or  in  the  other  rejoicings  of 
the  court,  which  she  knew  were  too  frequently  provided  I'V 
oceans  derived  from  the  oppression  and  hard  labour  of  Hit 


OF    BCKOART 


275 


lowly.  She  preferred  to  the  pomp  of  this  world's  power 
the  humiliations  of  God*8  poor  people,  and  associated  bersell 
to  them  as  much  as  possible  by  the  practice  of  voluntarj 

povtTty. 

The  sight  of  such  a  life  offered  too  severe  a  lesson  to  the 
cotiitiors  and  to  the  false  knights  who  had  caused  her  so  much 
Butr*  ring  in  her  youth  and  in  the  early  days  of  her  widowhood, 
Doi  to  re-animate  their  dislike  towards  her.  To  be  reveugtid 
for  her  contempt  for  the  riches  and  pleasures  which  they  prized 
above  all  things,  they  affected  to  despiiie  herself.  They  would 
neither  speak  to  nor  visit  her.  If  by  chance  they  met  her, 
iiey  profited  of  the  .oppoitunity  afforded  them  to  call  her,  in 
m  audible  tone,  a  mad  tooman  and  a  fool.  She  endured  these 
insults  with  equanimity;  her  fac".  expressed  so  much  bappi- 
Desi  and  resignation,  that  they  accused  her  of  hnving  alreaiiy 
forgotten  the  death  of  her  husband  and  of  indulging  in  un- 
Keinly  joy.  "Miserable  wretches!*'  says  an  author  of  that 
time,  "  they  understood  not  that  she  possessed  the  peace  and 
joy  which  are  not  granted  to  the  impious.*' 

Even  the  Duchess  Sophia  appears  to  have  been  prejudiced 
against  her  ^y  calumnies,  and  to  have  manifested  to  her 
daughter-in-law  feelings  of  surprise  and  indignation ;  uy-  Eliza- 
beth was  not  troubled,  for  the  Lord,  who  was  all  in  all  to  her, 
read  the  secrets  of  her  heart. 

On  the  otiier  hand,  pious  persons,  whose  souls  were  truly 
wise,  appreciated  and  admired  her  humility.  Besides,  she 
received  at  this  time  the  noblest  encouragement  to  a  Chris- 
ti;iii  soul — ^the  most  powerful  prot-ection  to  a  rajiligned 
woman.  From  the  Holy  See,  which  was  then  the  only  suie 
r<'fuii^e  of  the  feeble  and  the  persecuted,  words  of  friendly 
a!!tl  fatherly  tenderness  were  uttered  to  strengthen  and  to 
honour  her.  The  same  Cardinal  Ugolino,  whom  we  have 
already  seun    acting  as   iuternaediary   between    oor  priuceai 


1 1  n 


970 


LirS    Qf    4T.     fL^X^BITH, 


I 

ll 


t 


.'I 


and  St.  Francis  of  Aasisiom,  ha4  bocome  Pope,  nndcr  the 
namo  of  Gregory  IX.,  aiKJi  having  heard  of  her  suffcriuj^ra, 
and  of  her  unalterable  Qdelifty  in  the  path  traced  out  for  her 
by  God,  addressed  to  her  a  letter  replete  with  a])ostolie  cou- 
•pintion  ^e  exhorted  her,  l^y  the  exaraplos  of  tlie  saints, 
and  by  the  hope  of  eternal  life,  to  persevere  iii  contlDcnce 
and  patience :  he  enjpined  her  to  place  confidence  in  him,  for 
that  during  his  life  he  would  not  abandon  her  ;  that  on  the 
contrary  he  would  ever  look  upon  her  as  his  child,  and  that 
thenceforth  he  took  her  person  and  property  under  his  spi(  ial 
protection.  At  the  same  time,  he  granted  her  the  privilege 
of  having  a  church  and  cemetery  attached  to  her  hospital  of 
Saint  Mary  Magdalene  at  Gotha.  Thrs  tender  and  vigilant 
father  also  ordered  Master  Conrad,  who  was  still  invested 
with  Apostolic  authority  in  Germany,  and  who  had  just  re- 
turned to  Thuringia,  to  take  charge  more  than  ever,  abso- 
lutely and  specially,  of  the  spiritual  direction  of  the  Duehesg 
Elizabeth,  and  at  the  same  time  to  defend  her  against  all 
who  might  endeavour  to  do  her  any  injury. 

Whether  these  exhortations  of  the  common  father  of  tlie 
faithful  gave  a  new  impulse  to  her  courage,  or  whether 
obeying  the  wonderful  influence  of  Divine  grace  in  her  hiart, 
she  soon  ent-ertained  tho  idea  and  earnest  desire  of  embracing 
a  life  more  perfect  and  more  united  to  God.  Though, 
assuredly,  she  was  as  much  as  [X>s8ible  detached  from  the 
splendours  and  pleasures  of  her  rank,  that  did  not  satisfy  her 
ardour.  Her  soul  came  too  frequently  in  contact  with  the 
world,  and  that  world  she  loved  not.  After  having  for  a 
long  time  considered  upon  >^hat  maimer  of  life  would  bo  most 
pleasing  to  God,  and  ha?ing  examined  the  different  rules  of 
the  Mouafitic  Orders  then  existing,  and  even  the  solitary  life 
of  the  recluses,  the  remembrance  and  example  of  the  glorious 
«craph-8(^int  of  As^isium,  whoae  child  she  was  already,  ad  » 
Feuiteut  of  the  Third  Order,  gained  the  mastery  in  her  Ueart  { 


ef    BUNOAET. 


Wi 


ih  felt  the  same  courage,  the  same  love  of  God  ftiid  of 
poviTty,  «*8  he  (lid  ;  she  ret^olved  upon  embractiig  hU  rule  in 
nil  its  prinutive  rigour,  and  like  him  aud  his  fervent  disci- 
pics,  after  having  renounced  all  thingn,  to  go  and  Ik\9;  her 
hi'iad  from  door  to  door.  She  mentioned  her  docisiou  ^ 
Miister  Conrad,  and  humbly  requested  his  consent  Bol 
this  prudent  director  rejected  UiU  idea  with  indignation,  and 
[favo  her  a  soircre  reprimand,  being  jicrsuaded  that  her  sex 
ami  weaivucss  forbade  her  such  a  life.  Siie  still  iusisted  oar- 
IK  stiy,  shedding  an  abundance  of  tears  ;  but  as  lie  was  stead- 
ta>t  in  refusing,  she  left  hira,  crying  out,  "You  shall  see;  I 
will  do  something  that  you  cannot  prevent  I"  But  when  she 
saw  that  she  could  not  vanquish  Conrad's  resistance  for  that 
time,  she  had  recourse  to  other  means  to  satittfy  the  ardour  and 
ttal  by  which  she  was  animated* 

The  Regent  Henry,  as  we  hate  already  said,  whatever 
nnirlit  have  been  his  secret  thoughts  upon  the  manners  and 
fotlings  of  his  sister-in-law,  always  testified  to  her  the  resj)ect 
and  affection  which  he  had  sworn  over  th©  ashes  of  his  brch 
tlur,  and  paid  to  her  honours  which  the  humble  princiifli 
would  fain  decline  receiving  ;  counting  on  those  good  dispo®,- 
tions,  and  after  having  resided  for  about  a  year  with  her 
family,  Elizabeth  besought  Duke  Henry  to  assign  to  her 
Kojne  residence  where  she  might  entirely  devote  herself  t© 
God,  without  allowing  any  earthly  care  to  iptierfere  with  her 
works  of  piety  and  charity.  Henry,  after  consulting  hip 
mother  and  brother,  granted  the  city  of  Marburg,  in  Hesse, 
with  all  its  dependencies  and  revenues,  to  provide  for  her 
niiiliilrniince.  Penetrated  with  gratitude,  she  thanked  he? 
mother  and  brothers-in-law,  saying  that  they  did  foB  hur 
more  than  she  deserved,  and  gave  more  than  w(»uld  sufflof 
for  all  her  wants.  But  the  Lnndgrave  pimuljied  to  give  als4 
500  marks  pf  ^Ivy,  to  4^fray  the  first  espouses  of  her  ttt^ 
blishmcut. 


TT  '»  ■ 


•       ! 


rrd 


Liri    Of    >T.     ELIZABITR, 


Master  Conrad  B^cms  not  to  have  approved  of  this  arTaiig^ 
mcnt,  since  we  find  that  he  w\  >te  to  the  Pot)C  that  it  wai 
against  his  will  that  the  Duchess  came  into  his  <;uinitrv. 
But  as  be  did  not  oppose  it  positively,  she  profited  <.i  lili 
approacliing  departure,  to  leave  Thuriugia,  and  to  go  amj 
dwell  near  her  spiritual  Father  in  tlie  city  which  deitved 
from  her  name  so  pure  and  glorious  a  renown. 

On  her  arrival  at  Marbourg,  she  followed  the  advice  givtn 
by  Master  Conrad,  and  appointed  officers  and  bailiffs,  who 
were  to  administer  the  laws  in  her  name.  The  people  of  tlie 
city  were  so  eager  to  pay  tlieir  homage  to  their  young  sove- 
reign, that  her  humility  could  scarce  endure  such  honour ; 
so  she  retired  to  a  little  village  called  Wehrda,  about  a 
league  from  the  city,  on  the  charming  banks  of  the  Lahn,  « 
river  which  runs  by  Marburg.  On  entering  it,  she  selected 
as  her  habitation  the  first  cabin  which  she  saw,  and  it  wa-) 
one  deserted  and  almost  in  ruins  ;  this  she  did,  that  she  mi^rltt 
not  cause  any  trouble  to  lu*^  people  in  the  village,  for  her 
tender  solicitnde  was  alrt  ndy  awakened  in  behalf  of  her  now 
subjects.  For  shelter,  ^be  had  to  lie  under  the  projection  of 
a  staircase  or  of  a  chimney,  and  to  gather  the  leafy  branches 
of  trees  to  cover  the  openings  by  which  the  sun  and  wii:<i 
entered  too  freely.  She  prepared  also  her  meagre  food  as 
well  as  she  waaable,  and  always  returned  thanks  to  God.  This 
miserable  hovel  protected  her  neither  from  the  he«»t  nor  from 
the  cold,  and  the  smoke  seriously  injured  ?ier  eyes,  but  for 
God's  sake  she  endured  all  these  mortifications  joyfully. 
Meanwliile,  she  caused  to  be  constructed  at  Marburg,  near 
the  convent  of  the  Friars  Minors,  a  small  house  composed  of 
wood  and  brick,  like  a  poor  cabin,  in  order  that  all  might 
know  that  it  was  not  as  a  great  princess  that  she  came  to 
establish  herself  in  her  capital,  but  as  an  humble  and  patient 
widow,  who  came  there  to  serve  the  Lord  in  poverty  and 
peace.     As  soon  as  this  palace  of  Christian  abnegation  wai 


OF  nmoiRf. 


27» 


eoiniileied,  £ho  went  tc  dwell  thero  with  her  children  and  her 
fuiiliful  Rorvaut«. 

Vet  Elizabeth  still  sought  a  more  signal  and  ciitirn  detacb- 
tnciit  from  the  world,  ^ind  a  cIoHer  and  more  manifest  bond 
ol  union  with  God.  littr  confessor  continued  steadfast  in 
fiOising  h^T  iHirmission  to  eml)race  the  Franciscan  rule  in  all 
I*  overity,  and  to  beg  her  bread  like  the  pocr  Clares  ;  yet 
iil  ;vns  still  anxious  to  Imitate,  as  far  as  possible,  this  ^'% 
%'AH'U  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  tyjKJ  of  evangelical  peH"  \ 
We  have  seen  that  during  her  husband's  life-time 
been  enrolled  in  the  Third  Order  of  St.  Francis.  She  r\ 
ttirnceforth  to  give  to  that  affiliation  an  irrevocable  and  solemn 
( haracter  ;  and  though,  previous  to  that  time,  this  branch  of 
tie  Franciscan  family  was  not  looked  n]>on  as  forming  a 
rt'LTuhir,  or,  correctly  speaking,  a  monastic  order,  she  wished 
to  make  a  public  profession,  as  used  the  cloistered  religioui, 
and  to  renew  solemnly  the  vows  of  chastity,  obedi(mce,  and 
absolute  poverty  which  she  had  so  frequently  made  in  her 
heart.  Elizaljeth  was  thus  enabled  to  associate  herself,  as 
far  as  possible,  in  that  glorious  renunciation  of  this  world^a 
^ealth  which  has  during  so  rnany  centuries  merited  for  the 
Seraphic  Order  the  special  protection  of  God  and  thcadmira* 
tion  of  the  Christian  world. 

Master  Conrad  approved  of  this  design,  but  he  would  not 
permit  her  to  consider  her  vow  of  poverty  as  depriving  her  of 
the  free  disposal  of  the  revenues  proceeding  from  her  dowry, 
and  the  estates  assigned  for  her  use  by  the  Landgrave 
Henry.  But  on  the  contrary,  she  was  gradually  to  apply 
til  m  to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  and  to  the  lif(uidation  of 
I  crtain  debts  incurred  by  her  late  husband,  the  good  Dako 
Louis. 

Nevertheless,  she  renounced  this  wealth  in  spirit,  as  she 
did  all  earthly  aff'^ctions,  eren  the  most  legitimate.  To  gain 
this  victory,  not  only  OT>jr  the  world,  but  even  ovei  bef 


f'-^ 


I::/;- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


■  3  0  im^^^^B 

■^  Uii   12.2 
I. 


Ui 

lit 

u 


1-25  III  1.4 


III 


1.6 


V 


Photogra|iiic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WeST  MAIN  STREIT 

WEBSTfR.N.Y.  I45SC 

(716)872-4503 


> 


^\%^ 

^v^ 

^ 


880 


LIPK    er    ST.    fLlCABITB, 


i  Hi 


I      ' 


owtt  8oa1,  ibe  pioos  EUatbeth  knew  tbtit  gfMter  strength 
was  required  than  what  could  be  derived  trmn  her  own  will, 
and  the  examples  of  the  Blessed  Francis,  tat6  of  the  other 
holy  souls  who  had  preceded  her  in  the  paths  6f  perfection. 
She  knew  that  grace  from  abore  was  alone  scfBclehtly  power- 
ful for  this,  and  she  begged  it  firom  God,  witb  mot\j  than  hor 
wonted  frrvour,  for  several  days  before  she  assumed  the 
habit.    She  informed  her  friend  Y^ntnidto  that  she  inces- 
santly prayed  to  the  Lord  for  three  fatoors, — first,  an  entire 
disregard  of  all  temporal  wealth,  then  th^  coamge  to  disdain 
the  injuries  and  calumnies  of  m^n,  and,  flmdly,  the  dimina- 
tion  of  the  excessive  love  she  bor6  ib  her  children.    After 
having  for  some  time  sought  these  gdtces,  Abe  came  one  day 
to  her  companions,  radiant  with  more  liban  earthly  joy,  ahd 
said  to  them — "The  Lord  has  heard  my  prayer ;  behold  !  I 
formerly  loved  the  wealth  and  pleasures  of  the  world,  and 
now  they  are  become  worthless  in  my  eyefs.    The  calumnies 
of  men,  the  false  sayings  of  the  wicked,  and  th^  contempt 
which  they  lavish  npon  me,  have  become  to  me  sources  of 
pride  and  happiness.    My  little  ones^  these  childnfn  beloved 
of  my  heart,  are  become,  as  it  were,  strang^s  io  me.    This 
God  sees.    It  i#  to  bhn  I  offer  thcm~to  bis  care  I  cOnfide 
them.     May  his  holy  will  be  done  in  all  things  I     I  no  longer 
love  anything,   nor  any  cteMore  :    hencefbrth  the  Great 
Greator  alone  possesses  my  heart.**     Inflamed  with    tliis 
heroic  lote,  Elizabeth  thought  herself  sttfllci^tly  well-di^- 
posed  to  make  her  vows  and  to  take  the  habtt  consebrate^. 
by  her  glorious  models,  St.  Fran6is  and  St.  Glare.    "  If  I 
eonld,"  6aid  she,  "find  a  rale  poor&r  ttiaii  ihti  of  Clare, 
I  would  embrace  it,  to  condole  myself  for  not  b^ing  allowed 
to  enter  her  Grder.    But  I  know  of  none  such.*'    She  se< 
lebted  U»  this  cdremony  the'  Gborcb  of  tAie  FridrS  Minors 
and  the  feast  of  Good  Friday.    The  d«t  ffhtu  JeMs  Christ 
#«l{MHle4  of  aU  for  omr  lore  was  wHed  ttf  iht  Ctoaa,  and  oa 


Of    ai7N9#RT. 


Mrhicli  the  alUrs  »re  bacied  »qil  oncpverocl  m  Qe  wai,  to  f» 
uiiiid  the  faithful  of  t^e  ^upreipe  Sacrifice  ;  aud  this  was  Ihf 
•Jav  that  CSliafkbqth  (i  fi^rred  ia  \mf  turn  to  renounce  i^l  Ihiug^ 
»iiii  to  rend  the  If^t  ^'m  ^bf^t  |)9UDd  her  to  earth,  ifi  order  M| 
foliu\v  more  perfectly  the  Spouse  of  her  soul  in  t^  wajg  q( 
poverty  ai^  <^rity. 

Thus  on  thif  bjpssed  4ay»  ill  the  presence  of  her  chUdreo, 
ht-r  friends,  and  seTeral  Franciscan  Fathers,  she  came  to  lay 
her  holy  bfnds  on  i\^  bare  Altar  stone,  and  there  vowed  ^ 
renounce  her  will,  l^er  phildren,  her  rehitions,  her  companion!^ 
aud  all  th^  ponpps  f^d  pleasures  of  Uus  world. 

Brother  Buf)Lbard,  Quardian  of  the  Friars  Minors  pf  Hessep 
who  looked  upon  Eltfabetb  as  his  spiritual  child  and  friend, 
cut  off  her  hair,  clo.thjBd  hef  witii  ^he  grey  robe,  and  girde^ 
lier  with  the  c^fd  iif hich  was  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  Qvdpf 
of  St.  Franci^,  whilst  Mf^^r  Coprad  celebrated  M^ss.  Sh« 
wore  this  co^|ume,  ^n^  e?£r  after  went  barefooted.  From  tbi4 
uioniept,  top,  as  |f  V>  o^li^tr^te  tt^e  refnen^brance  of  her  pasi 
grandeur,  shf)  su|l^t|tote4  on  hier  se^  thjB  figure  of  a  bar^ 
footed  FrancisfCfM)  re^ig^us  in  placf^  of  tjhe  ^rpu^rial  l^ar^^ 

of  her  hu^h^4'§  ^WIJ  ¥^^  ^P?  ^^ 

Gutfi,  hpr  ip4i4  of  honour,  who  bad  beei^  her  faithful  apd 
iusepari^ble  cofopanion  from  childhood,  was  now  unwilling  t^ 
had  a  diferen^  ktqd  of  life  frpm  that  of  her  dear  mistresi. 
She  also  assumed  ^be  bi^blt  qf  the  Third  Order,  and  s(iJ<;!iinl|^ 
renewed  tb^  vpw  of  ctu|st^ty  wl^icl^  she  bad  made  some  y^arf 
before  duri^  tbo  l^e  of  Puke  Louis.  This  community  of  lift 
and  fp^ling  w^  %9  J^liau^beth  a  ^onso^tjoii,  which  she  proba- 
hly  would  have  denied  herself,  had  she  been  aware  of  Ooti^'i 
ii.tcution  ;  it  if  as  one,  however,  of  which  she  was  very  soon 
deprived. 

Bu(  now  1^  fitep^mt  necessary  tp  part  with  her  children, 
«hoiu  she  rep^i^ed  herself  for  loiing  tqo  ardently,  ^e9 
lou  HeiruMli^^  N^  ^t-^ifn,  ai^  hi^ir  to  ^he  ■ov^eigntjf  ^ 


t  fc.-) 


189 


IIP!    or    ST.    ILIIABBTB, 


t  , 


I         I 


Hi 


!  1 


hb  father's  possessions,  at  this  time  between  six  and  m  ffn 
fears  of  age,  was  sent  to  the  castle  of  Creatzbarg,  to  rcinain 
ii:  good  and  safe  keeping  until  be  should  be  old  enouiirli  to 
assume  the  reins  of  gOTemment,  which  were  then  held  l)y  l.ifi 
ancle,  as  regent. 

It  is  probable  that  the  same  place  was  also  the  home  of 
her  eldest  daughter,  Sophia,  already  affianced  to  the  yoiiii;> 
Duke  of  Brabant.  Her  second  daughter,  Sophia,  returned 
to  the  abbey  of  Kitzingen,  where  she  was  to  take  the  veil, 
and  where  she  remained  during  her  whole  life.  The  youiij^^est 
of  all,  the  little  Gertrude,  scarcely  two  years  old,  born  after 
her  fathcr^s  death,  was  sent  to  the  convent  of  the  ProDion* 
stratensian  nuns  of  Aldenburg,  near  Wetzlar.  Erery  one 
was  ast.  i.iHhed  that  this  young  princess  should  be  placed  in  a 
poor  and  newly  founded  house,  and  some  severely  reproached 
Elizabeth  for  it,  but  she  answered  them  that  she  did  so 
according  to  the  agreement  made  between  her  husband  nnd 
herself  at  the  moment  of  parting,  even  before  the  birth  of  the 
child.  "It  was  heaven,^  said  she,  "that  inspired  us  to 
choose  that  monastery,  for  it  wills  that  my  child  shall  con- 
tribute to  the  spiritual  and  temporal  advancement  of  that 
holy  house."  Now,  indeed,  was  her  sacr*  •  perfect — her 
entire  separation  from  the  world  consummate  ,  .^y  one  of  those 
efforts  which  even  exceed  the  precepts  of  Christian  duty. 
Yhere  remained  no  longer  anything  for  her  to  renounce — all 
in  this  world  was  dead  to  her — at  the  age  of  twenty-two 
years  she  could  say  with  the  il  pintle,  "  /  /ire,  but  ii  is  no 
longer  I  who  live,  but  it  i»  Jettue  Chritt  who  lives  in  meP — 
Gal.  ii.  20. 

And  the  world,  and  its  powerful  ones,  who  still  pursued 
her  with  their  hatred,  awaited  but  this  moment  to  redouble 
their  insulting  attacks.  The  wise  and  great  people  of  thu 
lime  had  but  one  voice  to  proclaim  aloud  the  madness  of  thii 
tpoime  of  Christ,  tnd  they  wer«  not  deceived,  (br  she  had 


or    BUNOART. 


ic<I'  '.(J  compreheadcd  and  embraced  in  its  fallest  extent  the 
'^  .ed  folly  of  the  cross. 

\\'liat  the  courtiers  of  Tharingia  then  said  is,  and  donbtlen 
fill  be,  often  repeated  by  those  who,  haricg  admired  tba 
P'tic  history  of  her  early  years,  are  amazed  and  shocked  at 
(his  decisive  crisis  in  her  life.  "  What  ?**  say  they,  "stiU  bq 
joiing,  and  having  so  many  daties  to  perform,  so  much  of 
lawful  happiness  to  enjoy,  to  choose  so  extraordinary  an  exist- 
ence !  to  impose  on  herself  such  unnecessary  penance !  to 
renounce  the  care  of  her  children,  and  all  the  duties  of  her 
position  in  society  I"  And  many  other  futile  reasons  in  which 
this  wordly  wisdom  is  so  rich,  that  it  but  knows  bow  to  ca- 
lumniate all  that  is  above  the  comprehension  of  its  selfishneM, 
or  stronger  than  its  weakness. 

Faithful  souls  I  shall  these  be  our  thoughts  in  contemplating 
the  triumphs  of  this  Christian  heroine.  If,  because  we  are 
too  weak  to  imitate  or  to  follow  her,  shall  we  be  blind  enough 
not  to  admire  her  virtues  ?  Shall  we  not  bow  with  a  tender 
respect  before  these  secrets  of  divine  love,  this  absolute  obo* 
dience  to  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  "  ff  any  tnan  come  to  m$ 
and  hate  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and  wi/e,  and  children^ 
and  brethren,  and  Misters,  yea,  and  his  oum  life  a/to,  he  cannot 
he  my  discipk.** — St.  Luke,  xiv.  26. 

We  must  not  be  surprised  that  the  world  should  despise 
and  insult  her,  for,  following  Christ,  she  conqnered  the  world. 
In  the  war  that  it  wages  from  earliest  youth  with  the  soul 
redeemed  by  the  blood  of  God,  she  had  brnvely  fuught ;  with 
iiei-  weak  hand  she  took  up  the  gauntlet  iu  the  lists,  and 
fearlessly  engaged  in  the  conflict,  avoiding  not  its  wounds^ 
bill  living  in  the  midst  of  attacks  and  innumerable  snaresi 
At  an  age  when  so  many  faults  are  excusable  from  inexpe* 
rience,  she  had  already  condemned  the  rash  judgments  of  this 
world,  with  its  prejudices  and  its  falsehoods.  She  had  denied 
iu>  rights  over  her,  braved  its  calumnies,  scorned  its  contempt 


tm 


>5 

i* 


n 


m 


ill 


1^  \\ 


sn 


Liri    of    it.    SllkiBBTB, 


iRfe  Vaoqulshcd  It  in  et^  ptAce  and  at  erery  tiiM— in  the 
riches  and  splendoar  of  a  coart,  as  writ  iM  iu  the  Mttcrm  ti 
df  hangcr^plnched  poteHy — in  this  moiBt  cherished  ftfTci  tium 
Of  the  heart,  as  weft  as  tn  iti  most  serere  trials,  it  aiigir.>ii, 
desolation,  and  death.  Neithiir  the  ties  of  conjugal  life,  nor 
ilie  niotcrnal  love  of  her  hitert,  nor  eVen  reputation,  the  last 
df  earthly  treasures,  was  over  prized  by  her.  And  if  now 
she  i'etlred  flrom  her  fik,  it  ^ras  because  Uie  had  been  vieto 
Hbus  in  the  struggle.  Entering  the  battle-fic/ld  hi  her  cliild- 
hdod,  she  left  it  not  until  she  had  completely  Tanqnishcd  lur 
toetny. 

Now  that  she  hitd  o^etccAan^  the  wiles  of  the  wicked  ser- 
pent, it  was  permitted  to  her  to  lay  do^n  her  arms,  and  to 
await,  sorrounded  by  the  mysterloos  joyi  of  p^irertj  and  ob» 
dkiico,  the  lUy  ot  Etemid  triomplL 


m 


«»  irtK4iBt. 


CHAPTEH  XIT. 


smAT  porcRTT   iM   waicB  m  dbar  sr.   SLnuun 

LITBU,   AND    BOW  8HS   ADTANCBD    Ol    HVHIUTT    AMD    MKBCr   TO* 

WABDS  ALL  CREATURES. 


"Manmn  siuan  nfsit  ad  fortia  «t  dlgRl  ejus  ■ppnhaiHlcniat  ftNatn.    Ibaaii 
tMin  apcniit  Inopl  et  pdiiiM  kom  •ztondlt  ad  f»npmtaL"—Prv9.  xxxU  It,  •). 

**  kaum,  dleo  rolilt,  qoaoidla  ladstli  obI  w  bU  flntcibaa  bmI  "«*«'«'«*^  mtM  IM» 
tk."-8.  MiiUh.  T.  40. 

'^  ElflSt  aljMtut  «M"— Al  IxEdU.  11. 

ELiZABETti,  devoted  ialdn^  to  Qod,  wished  tbat  the  toIiiii* 
tary  poverty  she  bad  embraced  shoald  be  as  complete  as  poa> 
Bible ;  she  was  anxious  that  all  should  correspond  with  th« 
poor  cotta^  she  had  chosen  for  her  dwelling-place.  She 
coiisecratied  all  the  revehnes  that  Master  C6nrad  obliged  he^ 
to  retain  nominally,  to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  and  to  the  sua* 
tainmeht  of  charitable  institutions. 

Not  having  succeeded  in  obtaining  her  confessor's  permis* 
Bion  to  seek  her  daily  food  from  the  charitable,  she  resolved 
to  earn  her  livelihood  by  the  labour  of  her  hands.  For  this 
purpose  she  could  spin  wool,  not  being  able  to  spin  flax.  Sha 
osed  to  get  from  the  monastery  of  Altenberg  wool  for  her 
work,  and,  when  it  was  all  spun,  she  used  to  send  it  to  th« 
ouns,  who  paid  her  for  her  labour,  but  not  always  to  the  full 
value.  She,  on  the  contrary,  wais  scrupulously  exact  in  per* 
forming  her  ta^k.  One  day  that  she  had  received  pa3r^:jent 
in  advani^e  for  a  certain  quantity  of  work.  Master  Conrac*  sent 
for  her  to  go  with  him  firom  Marburg  to  Eisenach  ;  Seeing 
that  she  could  not  spin  all  the  wool,  she  seht  the  little  that 
r^maliii^  dhdobe,  with  the  yarn,  ti  the  convent,  aiid  littli  il 


980 


LirS    Of    IT.    XtllABlTB, 


a  Cologno  pcnnj,  lest  she  might  be  accused  of  takitig  tot 
mnch  money  for  her  labour.  She  worked  so  incessantly,  that 
even  when  weakitess  or  illness  confined  her  to  bed,  and  wlien 
her  companions  took  away  the  distaff,  that  she  might  have  some 
rest,  to  avoid  idleness  she  ased  to  disentangle  and  arrange  wool 
for  fature  ase.  She  earned  by  this  means  sufficient  to  luiike 
her  offerings  to  the  churches,  and  to  provide  for  her  support 
Nothing  could  be  coarser  or  more  simple  than  her  fool.  It 
any  brought  her  anything  delicate  or  savoury,  she  used  at  once 
to  send  it  to  some  poor  person  in  her  hospital  without  eveD 
tasting  of  it.  Still  she  neglected  not  the  counsels  of  Chris- 
tian prudence  in  this  matter,  for  she  begged  of  her  physician 
to  point  out  what  the  exact  limits  of  her  abstinence  ought  to 
l)e,  lest  by  fasting  too  severely  she  should  bring  upon  herself 
infirmities  which  would  prevent  her  from  serving  God  well, 
and  for  which  He  would  call  her  to  a  strict  account ;  yet  she 
was  very  frequently  ill. 

She  most  generally  eat  vegetables  boiled  in  pure  water, 
without  salt,  and,  well  or  ill,  she  prepared  them  herself. 
While  she  was  thus  occupied  in  the  cares  of  her  house,  she 
ceased  not  to  elevate  her  soul  to  God  in  prayer  and  medita- 
tion ;  and  often  when  alone  by  the  fireside,  either  engaged  in 
cooking,  or  when  she  approached  to  warm  herself,  so  absorbed 
used  she  to  be  in  contemplation  that  sparks  and  cinders  would 
sometimes  fall  upon  her  garments  and  burn  them  without  her 
knowledge,  though,  when  her  companions  would  return,  they 
would  feel  almost  suffocated  by  the  smoke  and  odour  of  the 
burning  8tuff. 

Iler  clothing  might  be  compared  to  her  food  in  its  poverty. 
'She  generally  wore  a  robe  of  undyed  cloth,  such  as  was  used 
by  the  peasantry  and  the  podrest  classes  only  ;  this  robe  was 
often  torn  and  patched,  and  was  confined  round  her  waist  bj 
a  coarse  cord.  Her  mantle,  of  the  same  stuff  as  her  gown, 
had  become  too  short,  and  was  lengthened  by  a  pieot  of 


Of    BUKOABT. 


88t 


inotler  colour.  WhcDerer  the  found  scrapfc  of  cloth  sbt 
QM'd  to  gather  tliom  up,  to  mend  the  rents  and  burnt  on 
btr  garments,  with  her  own  hands,  though  the  did  not  well 
know  how  ic  sew.  She  feared  not  to  go  out  in  this  coetuni^ 
tnJ  this  confirmed  profane  men  in  the  opinion  they  had 
conceived  of  her  insanity ;  whilst  pious  souls  looked  upon 
her  aa  a  second  Saint  Clare.  And  wretched  aa  these  clothtt 
were,  she  frequently  deprived  herself  of  them  to  gire  them  to 
poor  people,  so  that  through  thd  intense  cold  of  winter  she 
was  often  obliged  to  remain  by  her  humble  hearth,  or  to  lie 
ander  her  scanty  bed-covering,  when  she  would  say,  "  Here 
am  I  resting  as  if  in  my  coffin,''  and  this  new  trial  was  to  her 
a  source  of  pare  joy. 

Enduring  all  these  privations  she  never  lost  the  amiability 
of  her  character,  nor  the  affability,  nor  extreme  and  continual 
goodness  in  her  manners  to  all,  by  which  she  had  ever  becD 
distinguished.  From  her  childhood  she  had  preferred  the 
society  of  the  poor  and  humble  to  any  other  ;  and  now  in  her 
pious  retreat  she  treated  not  only  these  maids  of  honour  who 
would  not  part  from  her,  but  also  the  servants  appointed  by 
Master  Conrad,  with  tender  and  sweet  cordiality. 

She  wished  that  not  one  of  them,  however  low  her  extrac- 
tion might  have  been,  should  give  her  any  title  of  distil  ^:on, 
but  should  simply  call  her  by  her  baptismal  name,  Elizabeth  ; 
ind  also  that  when  addressing  her  they  should  use  the  proi 
nouns  Thee  and  Thou,  as  if  speaking  to  an  equal  or  to  an  in 
ferior. 

She  endeavoured  rather  to  serve  them  than  to  be  serred 
by  them.  This  daughter  of  Kings  took  a  pleasure  in  perform* 
ing  their  menial  offices — such  as  washing  the  utensils  of  her^ 
house.  In  order  to  peWortn,  without  incurring  remarks,' 
tlicse  works  servile  in  the  eyes  of  men,  but  ennobled  befort 
God  by  sublime  humility,  she  used  to  give  various  com 
misdons  to  her  attendants,  and  when  they  bad  returned  aftei' 


\H\ 


ut 


hll 


r  I 


%%9 


LIFI    Qf    PT.    PVI<4**T>» 


i        I 


eiecuting  tbom,  they  woul4  find  ibftt  ihw  mistreaf  bad  Uoih 

nil  their  ivoik.    After  havipg  prepi^red  her  repasH,  m  we  Luvi 

•een,  she  would  noftke  them  li^  by  her  at  table  and  eat  fioio 

the  same  pll^e.    Oi^e  of  t|ieni,  named  Irraengarde,  who  related 

Cltese  matten  to  the  ecclesiastiual  judges,  amazed  at  the  sighi 

•f  10  much  humility  in  a  princess  formerly  so  powerfMl,  Haid 

to  her  one  day:   ^Surely,  madam,  you  acquire  great  nicrii 

by  your  conduct  towards  os,  bot  you  forget  the  danger  to 

which  you  expose  i^s,  that  of  filling  us  with  pride,  by  ))er- 

mitting  us  to  eat  with  yoq,  and  to  sit  by  your  side."    To 

which  the  Duchess  replied  :  "  Ah,  since  it  is  thus  with  thee, 

thou  must  even  come  and  sit  upon  my  knees/'  and  taking 

Irmengarde  in  her  arms,  she  placed  her  as  she  had  said. 

Her  patience  t^nd  chi^rity  were  beyond  meaaure ;  nothing  could 

irritate  or  proToke  her  to  give  way  to  the  least  disoQntent. 

She  spoke  frequently  and  for  a  long  time  with  her  companions ; 

the  heavenly  sweetness  ap4  gaiety  of  her  heart,  as  it  were, 

flowed  over,  in  these  familiar  conversations,  which  were  most 

profitable  to  t)ie  souls  of  thos^  who  listened  to  her.    But  she 

coqld  npt  bear  that  any  one.  should  utter  in  her  presence  wordi 

of  vanity  or  leyity,  or  th^t  t|iey  should  give  way  to  anger  or 

impatience  \  she  would  itjiterropt  theq^  always,  saying,  "  Well, 

where  is  our  Lord  now  1^  and  she  would  reprove  the  guilty 

one  with  aa  authority  tea^p^«;4  by  grace  aqd  gentleoefn. 

In  the  midst  of  this  life,  a|»parcntly  so  mortified  and  bum- 
ble, but  so  glorious  before  God,  and  so  fruitful  in  ineifable  joyi 
lb  her  who  had  devoted  herself  so  entirely  to  Him,  Elizabeth 
cpuld  not  forget  ^hat  was  to  her,  softer  the  care  of  her  soal'a 
salvation,  tlie  first  and  only  interest  ojT  her  terrestrial  life,  the 
comfort  of  her  poor  and  afflicted  brethren.  Having  renounced 
all,  more  surely  to  find  Jeeps  in  Heaven,  she  could  not  neglect 
his  sufering  memberjs  on  earth.  |f  ot  contented  with  devoting 
to  the  use  and  comfort  of  the  poor  the  entire  proceeds  ff  her 
|«rcf)erty,  so  far  as  thti^t  she  reserved  not  for  herself  a^  laueb 


07    BUVOARr. 

IS  would  lerTe  to  sustaio  life,  and  thut  her  Director  wh 
obiiu'cd  to  set  a  limit  to  lier  expeiulituhs  ;  she,  a§  in  early 
jroirs,  tonght  by  her  caree  to  alleTiutc  fttill  further  tlicir  idIm* 
rics  by  cleausiiig  the  sorci  and  wounds  of  their  bodies,  and 
louring  the  balm  of  consolation  into  tlieir  wcury  bearta. 
When  she  arrived  at  Marbui^  her  firi^t  care  was  to  erect  ao 
buspital,  which  she  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  St.  Francis 
of  Assisium,  according  to  the  injunction  of  Pope  Oregory 
IX.  The  pontiff,  who  had  just  canonized  that  angelic  man, 
thought  H  right,  on  the  occasion  of  the  translation  of  his  body, 
to  send  to  his  intrepid  and  faithful  imitatriz,  a  present  fsff 
more  precious  than  the  mantle  which  she  formerly  received 
witii  80  mach  gratitude  ;  and  this  present  consisted  of  some 
drops  of  the  blood  which  flowed  from  the  wound  in  the  side 
of  St.  Francis,  when  he  received  the  sacred  stigmata.  Elizas 
kth  received  this  blessed  gift  in  the  same  spirit  that  inspired 
tli(!  Pope  to  send  it  to  her,  and  looked  upon  it  as  a  new  pledge 
of  her  alliance  with  and  affection  for  him  who  from  amongst 
all  other  men  had  followed  most  closely  in  the  footsteps  of  oor 
Redeemer.  She  thought  she  could  not  better  dispose  of  this 
holy  relic  than  to  enshrine  it  in  the  hospital,  to  the  service  of 
wiiich  she  intended  to  dedicate  the  remainder  of  her  life. 

As  soon  as  this  asylum  was  completed,  she  placed  therein 
the  greatest  possible  number  of  the  sick.  Every  day,  accom- 
panied by  her  two  faithful  friend:^  and  sisters  in  religion,  Guta 
and  Ysentrade,  she  osed  to  go  and  spend  many  hours  amongst 
the  patients,  cleansing  and  dressing  them,  and  administering 
to  them  the  prescribed  remedies  ;  and  above  all,  consoling 
each  one  with  the  most  affectionate  exhortations  adapted  to 
hi8  state  of  corporal  sufferings  or  the  spiritual  wants  of  his 
louj.  It  was  not  the  charitable  instincts  of  her  heart,  or  the 
secessity  oi  gratifying  her  desire  of  comforting  her  neighbour 
tloQo,  that  she  seemed  to  obey,  but  as  if  she  strove  to  find  to 
these  works  of  mercy  another  means  of  immolating  her  flesh  lo 
18 


?  I 


i«i 


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s  * 


;♦    4] 


IP 


^'W 


^1 


m 


Llfl    or    iff.    BLtlAIITB, 


Wten  conquered,  the  tranifonoed  them  into  mortificatlunH  ofi 
new  and  extraordinkry  kind  ;  and  we  can  hardljr  diacriiniuau 
which  held  the  greatest  sway  in  he/  heart,  the  lore  of  h^r 
neighbour,  or  the  hatred  of  that  bodj  of  lin  which  alooe 
■eparated  her  from  her  ditine  Savicar.  She  waa  not  tilone 
the  congolatrix  of  the  poor,  bat  even  their  slave,  and  no  ser- 
vice appeared  to  her  to  be  too  repulsive,  too  difficnU,  too  itwut; 
for  each  one  of  them  was,  in  her  eyes,  the  living  image  of  the 
Heavenly  Spouse  of  her  soul.  Those  amongst  the  sick  wIiom: 
disorders  inspired  all  with  disgust,  and  drove  every  one  from 
them,  became  the  objects  of  her  care  and  tenderness,  and  her 
royal  hands  rendered  to  them  every  assistance.  She  spoke  tu 
them  with  familiarity,  and  often  kissed  their  ulcers  and  fri);ltt 
fill  sores.  In  the  memory  of  man  was  never  heard  of  so  won- 
derful a  triumph  over  the  repugnance  of  the  senses,  uiiitril  to 
so  much  ardour  and  perseverance  in  the  practice  of  the  most 
humble  devotion.  All  were  astonished  that  such  a  life  (tlie 
like  of  which  had  never  been  heard  of,  even  in  the  histories 
of  the  saiuta)  should  have  been  voluntarily  chosen  by  the 
daughter  of  a  king  ;  but  the  Spirit  from  above  inspired  her 
with  that  holy  violence  to  which  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  has 
been  promised  as  a  reward. 

Such  practices  were  far  from  obtaining  for  her  universal 
sympathy  or  approbation,  and  there,  were  found  even  ploiu 
people  to  say  that  she  went  too.  far  ;  but  she  had  too  fully 
conquered  herself  to  shrink  before  the  opinions  of  men.  One 
day  when  going  to  the  Church  she  met  a  poor  man  whom  site 
brought  home,  and  whose  hands  and  feet  she  washed :  this 
time,  the  occupation  so  disgusted  her  that  she  shuddered,  imt 
immediately  she  repressed  this  feeling  and  said  to  herself. 
"  Ah,  ugly  month,  so  thou  dislikest  this — know  then  that  it 
is  a  salutary  drink  ;**  so  saying  she  drank  the  water  she  had 
Just  used,  and  added :  "  Oh,  Lord,  when  you  wei^  on  tin 
Craaa,  you  tasted  Tinegar  and  gall — I  am  not  worthy  of  that 


or    RUWOABT. 


Wi 


Aid  nie  to  become  more  worthy  of  portaking  yoar  rafferinge.* 
\a\»'T9,  who  00  aecouut  of  the  lo  easily  spread  cootagioo  of 
(li«  ir  fearfol  malady,  were  objects  of  horror  to  maukiod  ia 
^iinral,  were  on  this  account  more  beloved  and  teaderly 
lari  *l  for  by  her.  Bhe  bathed  them  herself,  and  often  cot  op 
(urtiiins  aikd  other  precious  cloths  to  dry  them  after  learing 
tlio  l>ath  ;  sho  made  their  beds  and  laid  them  in  them.  "  O  ! 
how  happy  are  we,**  said  she  one  day  to  her  attendants,  "  to 
W  able  thus  to  cleanse  and  clothe  oar  Lord  I"  To  which  one 
of  them  replied :  "  Yoo,  madam,  may  surely  find  it  agreeable, 
but  I  know  not  if  others  would  like  it  as  well." 

Master  Conrad  thought  that  her  charity  led  her  beyond 
the  limits  of  Christian  prudence,  and  he  forbade  her  to  touch 
or  to  kiss  the  sores  of  the  lepers,  or  other  sick  people,  lest  she 
gboiiid  contract  their  maladies,  but  this  precaution  failed,  for 
the  grief  that  prohibition  caused  to  her  compassionate  heart 
was  so  great  that  she  fell  seriously  ill. 

lint  it  was  not  alone  to  the  corporal  necessities  of  her 
brethren  that  this  ardent  disciple  of  Christ  confined  her  soli- 
citude and  benevolence — she  nevor  lost  sight  of  the  weal  of, 
and  spiritual  remedies  for  their  souls.  She  added  to  the 
tender  care  she  always  gave  them,  pious  and  frequent  exhort- 
ations. She  watched  carefully  that  poor  people  should  hiive 
their  children  baptized  immediately  after  birth,  and  that  all 
the  sick  should  a^  for  and  receive  the  holy  Sacraments,  not 
iloiie  at  their  last  hour,  but  also  when  they  entered  the  ho» 
}tital.  Though  her  own  example,  added  to  these  exhortations, 
should  have  been  all-powerful,  yet  she  sometimes  met  with 
resistance  from  souls  embittered  by  misfortune,  or  rendered 
te))id  by  a  long  absence  from  their  duties  as  members  of  the 
Church  ;  then  did  she  unite  the  energy  of  Christian  zeal  to 
her  habitnal  sweetness. 

One  day  a  blind  man  presented  himself  at  the  hospital  and 
demanded  admittance.    Elicabeth  came  ap  at  the  same  mo^ 


.'  r 

i'1 


i   .. 


^^I# 


LIFI    OF    ST.     ILItABITH, 


■.ill 


il. 


meot,  aocDmpanied  by  Muter  CoDimd  ;  she  joyfiiny  connoted 
to  the  poor  man's  admissioa  on  conditioo  thai  he  would  cum 
Qience  by  healing  the  woanda  of  his  sool,  Mid  approach  the 
triboDal  of  peuaur^.  Bat  the  blind  man,  impatient  from  his 
malady,  and  outioyed  by  this  exliortation,  began  to  bla.spli< me 
and  to  carse  ^uch  sopcrstitioos  cnstoms,  as  be  called  tliini ; 
Elizabeth,  indignant  at  such  language,  reproved  liim  with 
such  vehemeDce  that  he  was  niddenl)  touched  with  coniptinc- 
tion,  and  kueeling,  he  immediately  confessed  bis  sins  to  Mas- 
ter Conrad. 

Fur  from  confining  the  exercise  of  her  benevolence  to  this 
hospital,  Elizabeth,  attended  by  her  maidens,  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  the  huts  of  the  poor  people  in  the  neighbuu^ 
hood  of  Marbourg,  and  at  the  same  time  of  bringing  to  them 
bread,  meat,  and  other  food  which  she  distributed  herself. 
With  a  deep  interest  she  inquired  even  into  the  meet  trifling 
details  of  their  manner  of  living,  and  carefully  examined  their 
clothes  and  bed-covering,  that  she  might  know  what  would 
be  most  suitable  to  relieve  their  wants. 

She  distributed  amongst  them  all  the  money  she  had  re* 
ceived  for  her  jewels,  rings,  silken  vesture,  and  other  remnanti 
of  her  worldly  life,  which  she  had  secretly  sold.  She  waa 
always  ready  to  perform  even  the  roost  menial  offices  for  thcso 
poor  people  and  to  supply  their  least  wants.  One  day  in 
winter  a  sick  woman  asked  her  for  some  fi;^  ;  Elizabeth  rau 
immediately  to  a  neighbouring  stream,  invoking  thus  the 
Divine  Provider  of  all  good :  "  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  if  it  be 
your  will,  send  me  some  fish  for  your  snlTi^ring  one.**  And 
having  searciied  the  water  she  found  therein  a  large  fish,  with 
which  she  hastened  to  gratify  her  patient.  » 

When  on  her  benevolent  missions  she  met  with  any  crea- 
ture whose  weakness  or  state  of  suffering  seemed  to  her  to 
^nrre  a  special  exercise  of  compassion,  or  if  their  devotioo 
or  resignation  was  more  perfect  than  that  of  other  patient^ 


Of    BUVOARr. 


M 


ihe  woald  bring  them  not  onlj  to  her  hospital,  bat  even  intc 
her  own  dweiliog,  there  to  naree  them  vith  the  tendered 
c&ro,  and  to  make  them  sit  at  her  own  table.  Conrad  remou 
strated  with  her  on  this  subject,  bot  she  replied  to  liim,  "  Q 
my  dear  Master,  leave  theni  to  me !  Remember  mj  past  lift 
in  the  pride  and  pomp  of  tlie  world  ;  we  mnst  cnre  an  evil  b^ 
its  contrary  virtue.  I  must  now  live  with  the  poor  ilnd  ham 
ble ;  this  society  is  fruitful  in  graces  to  me,  let  me  enjoy  it." 

One  of  those  whom  she  thus  adopted  was  a  little  boy, 
without  father  or  mother-<-a  paralytic  from  his  birth,  one* 
eyed,  and  suffering  always  from  a  most  repnlslre  malady. 
This  poor  being,  overwhelmed  with  so  much  misery,  received! 
from  her  more  than  a  mother's  care.  She  used  to  pass 
whole  nights  watching  by  his  side,  rendering  to  him  tho 
most  humiliating  services,  and  tenderly  consoling  him  with 
the  most  affectionate  words. 

He  died,  and  wsis  succeeded  iii  t^er  care  by  a  young  girl 
stricken  with  a  leprosy  so  fearful,  that  in  the  hospital  no  one 
would  dare  to  touch  her,  nor  even  to  look  at  her.  As  soon 
as  Elizabeth  saw  her  she  approached  with  a  pious  veneration 
as  if  it  was  t^ie  Lord  who  had  deigned  to  present  Himself  to 
her  concealed  In  the  person  of  this  poor  creature  under  a  veit 
of  sorrows  ;  the  Princess  knelt  before  her,  and  notwithstand- 
ing the  child's  resistance,  she  took  off  her  shoes,  and  began  to^ 
bathe  the  ulcers,  to  anoint  them  with  the  prescribed  remedies, 
to  cut  off  the  toe  and  finger  nails,  and  altogether  to  tend  her 
with  such  pious  skill  that  the  condition  of  the  patient  rapidly 
improved.  After  removing  her  to  her  own  dwelling,  Eliza- 
beth used  to  spend  many  hours  by  her  bedside,  playing  with 
her  to  attract  her  attention  from  her  suffering,  and  alwayt 
speaking  to  her  in  language  the  most  consoling.  However, 
when  Conrad  learned  the  conduct  of  his  penitent,  he  removed 
tho  leper  from  her,  lest  she  should  catch  the  disorder,  and  for 
ibis  ezcen  of  zeal  hnpoeed  on  her  a  penance  so  severe  that  ht 


l;  I'' 


Ml 


f   t 


X '   f ' 


^   A  -* 


*  >4 


^   4  ^ 


I 


•J 


i  , 

I       ' 


'  2 


m 


LIFE    OP    ST.    ■LIIABBTB, 


I-  -l 


afterwards  thought  himself  boood  to  repent  of  it  to  the  Pope. 

But  Elizabeth,  whose  indefatigable  ardoar  nothing  could 
discourage,  replaced  her  patient  by  a  little  child  afflioted 
with  a  complaint  almost  as  revolting  as  the  leprosy — and  tliii 
cliild  she  treated  with  a  care  and  skill  with  which  Charity 
alone,  that  supreme  science,  could  inspire  her.  She  kept  tbig 
patient  with  her  until  her  death. 

Still  the  lepers  were  the  objects  of  her  predilection,  we 
might  abnost  say  of  her  enry,  as  no  other  sickness  so  com- 
pletely detached  its  victims  from  this  life. 

Brother  Gerard,  Provincial  of  the  Franciscans  in  Germany 
and  who  was,  after  Master  Conrad,  the  friend  to  whom  she 
most  intimately  confided  her  pious  thoughts,  came  to  visit 
ner  one  day,  and  she  began  to  speak  of  the  joys  of  holy 
Doverty-^towards  the  end  of  their  discourse  she  said :  "Ah, 
Father,  what  in  my  heart  I  would  like  best,  would  be  to  be 
treated  like  a  leper.  I  would  wish  to  be  given  a  straw- 
thatched  hovel,  like  those  in  which  people  place  such  suf- 
ferers, and  that  it  would  have  before  the  door  a  rag,  and  a 
little  box  into  which  the  passers-by  might  sometimes  throw  an 
alms.''  At  these  words  she  fell  into  a  kind  of  ecstasy,  daring 
which  th«  Father  Provincial  who  raised  her  from  the  ground 
heard  her  chaunting  hymns.  Soon  after  this  she  was  restored 
to  her  usual  state  of  being. 

We  may  be  permitted  to  embody  in  this  recital  some 
account  of  how  persons  stricken  with  leprosy,  and  the  disor- 
der itself,  were  considered  and  treated  during  Catholic  ages, 
particularly  as  our  doing  so  will  more  clearly  explain  the 
meaning  of  the  words  above  recorded,  as  uttered  by  our  dear 
•aint. 

In  these  times  of  universal  faith,  Religion  was  the  absolute 
sovereign  of  society,  and  consequently  was  enabled  to  meet 
efary  e^  il  with  some  remedy,  .and  from  extreme  human  mi* 
lery  she  cultivated  all  the  noble  feelings  of  piety  and  charity 


OV    BUVOART* 


7»9 


1688  80  com* 


Id  ChrUtian  soalfl.  Nv  jeing  able  to  resist  the  depIorabU 
material  sofferings  which  were  sure  to  result  firom  the  fearful 
malady,  she  was,  at  least,  omnipotent  in  destroying  the  moral 
rei>robatkon,  which  in  later  times  would  be  sure  to  attach 
itself  to  the  unhappy  Tictims  of  this  disorder — so  the  Church, 
in  a  manner,  consecrated  them,  as  the  representatiTes  of  the 
burthen  of  human  sorrow,  ftom  which  Jesus  Christ  had 
rescued  mankind,  and  which  this  holy  Mother  taught 
her  children  to  revere  in  the  persons  of  their  thus  aflBicted 
brethren. 

Leprosy,  then,  was  at  this  time  a  something  sacred  in  the 
Bight  of  the  Church  and  the  people — ^it  was  a  gift  from  Ood, 
a  special  distinction,  even  as  it  were,  a  mark  of  Divine  atten- 
tion. The  band  of  God,  the  ever  just  and  merciful  Father, 
bad  touched  a  Christian — had  stricken  His  child  in  a  myste> 
rious  manner,  and  one  to  heal  which  human  science  was  un« 
availing  ;  thenceforth  there  was  something  venerable  in  hii 
affliction.  Solitude,  reflection  and  retreat  with  God  alone 
became  necessary  for  a  leper,  but  the  love  and  prayers  of  hia 
brethren  followed  him  to  his  retirement. 

The  Church  knew  how  to  reconcile  the  most  tender  solici- 
tude for  these  her  suffering  children,  with  the  measures 
required  to  ensure  the  health  of  all,  by  preventing  the  spread 
of  contagion.  Perhaps  there  is  not  in  her  Liturgy  a  more 
affecting  and  solemn  ceremonial  than  that  called  Separatio 
Lepro»orum,  which  she  used  when  separating  one  stricken  by 
God,  in  towns  where  there  was  no  leper-hospital.  In  his 
presence  the  Mass  for  the  Dead  was  celebrated,  and  all  the 
forniture  and  utensils  required  for  him  were  blessed,  after 
which  every  one  present  gave  an  alms,  and  the  clergy,  pre* 
ceded  by  a  Crosft-bearer,  and  accompanied  by  all  the  fiftithfnl, 
conducted  him  to  the  solitary  hut  assigned  to  him  for  a  dwell- 
io^  place.  On  the  roof  of  this  house  the  priest  laid  fomt 
tonsecrated  earth  firom  a  burial  ground  lavaig;, 


m 


tIPI    or    ST.     SLIZABKTR, 


Hi 


Ti 


**Bi8  mortaas  mundo,  vlveiu  lUrnm  Dvo.** 
**B«  thoa  dead  to  th«  world,  living  again  to  Ood.** 

The  priest  then  addi*e8sed  to  him  a  cousolatory  discoarw 
whereiD  he  depicted  the  joys  of  Paradise,  and  the  coramuQitj 
of  spirit  with  the  Gharch  whose  prayers  would  be  moru  oo* 
eoasingly  offered  for  him  in  solitude  than  befbre. 

Then  he  erected  a  wooden  cross  before  the  door,  and  ap^ 
pended  io  it  a  little  box  fbr  alms,  after  which  every  one  wcut 
away.  At  Easter  only,  the  lepers  were  permitted  to  loaTe 
their  tombs,  in  commemoration  of  Christ's  resurrection,  when 
they  might  enter  into  villages  and  towns  to  share  in  the 
universal  joy  of  Christendom.  When  these  sufferers  died  la 
isolation,  the  Church  celebrated  their  obsequies  with  the  office 
for  Confessors  not  Bishops. 

The  feelings  of  the  Church  were  always  responded  to  by  her 
children.  Hence  the  lepers  received  ftrom  the  people  the  most 
affectionate  and  consoling  names.  They  called  them,  "  Gods 
own  sick  ones— Gk)d's  dear  poor — The  good  people.*'  They 
loved  to  remember  that  Jesns  Christ  Himself  had  been  pre- 
Hgured  as  a  leper  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  "  Et  nos  putavmm 
mmi  quasi  ieproaum  ,*"  that  He  was  the  gne^  of  a  leper  when 
Mary  Magdalene  poured  on  him  the  precious  ointment  and 
washed  his  feet  with  her  tears  ;  that  he  had  chosen  the 
leper  Lazarus  as  the  type  of  the  elect  soul ;  and  that  He  liad 
frequently  assumed  that  form  when  appearing  to  his  saints  on 
earth,  as  we  read  in  the  legends  of  St.  Julian,  St.  Leo  IX., 
pope,  St.  Hartyrius,  &c.  &c.  Besides  this,  also,  it  was  from 
the  Pilgrimages  to  the  Holy  Land  and  the  Crusades  that  the 
leprosy  was  brought  into  Europe,  and  this  derivation  added] 
to  its  sacred  character. 

An  order  of  knights  had  been  formed  at  Jerusalem,  that  of 
St.  Lazarus,  to  consecrate  itself  eidusively  to  the  service  of 
lepers,  one  of  whom  was  chosen  its  Grand  Master ;  and  an 
order  of  women  had  consecrated  themselves  to  tlie  Sam  | 


•V    nOOART, 


907 


uiiject  Id  tiie  same  dty,  at  tbe  Hospice  of  St.  John  the 
iliiioner.  i 

Amongst  the  sovereigns  and  nobles  of  the  earth,  onr  Bliza* 
bctli  was  not  the  only  one  of  royal  race  \yho  hononreil  Christ 
in  these  soccessors  of  Lniams — illustrious  and  powerfal 
princes  regarded  this  dnty  as  one  of  the  prerogatives  of  their 
crowns.  Robert,  king  of  France,  incessantly  visited  their 
hos|>itaIs.  St.  Louis  treated  them  with  fraternal  affection, 
risited  them  at  the  Quarter  Tenses,  and  kissed  their  ulcers. 
Henry  III.  of  England  did  the  same.  The  Countess  Sybella 
of  Flanders,  having  accompauied  her  husband  Theodorie  to  the 
Huly  Land,  employed  the  time  while  he  was  fighting  against 
the  infidels,  in  the  above-mentioned  hospital  of  St.  John, 
tending  the  lepers.  One  day,  as  she  bathed'  their  sores,  sha 
felt,  as  once  did  our  Elizabeth,  her  senses  revolting  against  so 
anpleasing  an  occupation  ;  to  chastise  her3elf  she  took  some 
of  tlie  water  in  her  mouth  and  swallowed  it  saying,  "  Thou 
ronst  learn  to  serve  God  in  His  poor,  it  is  a  good  occupation 
for  thee,  why  then  dost  thoa  permit  thy  heart  to  shrink  f^on 
It  ?"  When  her  hosband  was  leaving  Palestine,  she  reqaested 
his  permission  to  remain  there,  in  order  to  devote  the  remain- 
der of  her  life  to  the  service  of  the  lepers. 

Her  brother,  Baldwin  III.,  king  of  Jerusalem,  joined  his 
prayers  to  those  of  this  heroine  of  charity  ;  the  Count  resisted 
for  a  long  time,  and  did  not  consent  to  part  from  Sybella 
until  he  had  received  from  his  brother-in-law,  as  a  recompense 
for  his  sacrifice,  a  priceless  relic,  a  drop  of  blood  from  our 
Lord's  sacred  body,  saved  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea  at  the 
taking  down  from  the  Cross.  He  returned  alone  to  his  coun- 
try, carrying  with  him  this  sacred  treasure,  which  he  enslirined 
at  Bruges,  and  the  pious  people  of  Flanders  heard,  with  gi^eat 
veneration,  how  their  Count  had  sold  his  wife  to  Christ  and 
His  poor,  and  how  he  received  as  b^r  price  the  blood  of  theii 
Qod. 

18» 


*  »  ^ 


■iil '1.'-^ 


Liri    OF    IT.     BLUABirn, 


M 


But  above  all,  the  saints  of  the  middle  ages  are  those  who 
treated  lepers  with  a  sublime  devotion. 

St.  Catherine  of  Sienna  had  her  hands  affected  with  it 
while  attending  a  poor  old  woman  who  was  its  Tictim  ;  l«ut 
after  persevering  to  the  end  in  her  noble  sacrifice,  and  burj- 
ing  her  poor  patient,  her  handa  beeame  as  pure  and  white  an 
those  of  a  little  child,  and  a  halo  of  mild  light  plaved  around 
the  parts  that  had  been  most  affected.  St.  Francis  of  Assis- 
iura  and  St.  Clare  his  noble  companion,  St.  Odila  of  Alsace, 
St.  Judith  of  Poland,  St.  Edmund  of  Canterbury,  and  later 
•till,  St.  Francia  Xavier,  and  St.  Jane  Frances  de  Chantal, 
took  pleasure  in  humbly  serving  the  lepers ;  and  often  the 
prayers  of  these  holy  souls  obtained  for  the  afflicted  ones  an 
instantaneous  cure. 

In  this  glorious  company  Elizabeth  had  already  taken  her 
place,  by  the  unceasing  aspirings  of  her  soul  to  God  who  was 
ever  present  to  her  in  the  persons  of  the  poor.  But  whilst 
awaitiug  her  summons  to  a  blissful  eternity  with  them,  no- 
thing could  satiate  the  desires  of  her  compassionate  heart, 
uor  soothe  the  kngainhing  of  her  soul,  so  often  suffering  fron 
the  cottteniplatipo  of  tlie  niieriei  of  her  fellow  oreatuei. 


i 


^;!li 


Of  BvvoAftr. 


tuk 


« 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

40W  m  DKAI  ST.  SLOABRB  RKTUSBD  TO  MTUni  TO  ■■•  rATniai> 
KINODOM,  ni  OKDBR  THAT  SHI  MIOBT  MOU  SURILT  Bim  TM 
KINGDOM  OP  BEATBN. 

"Begaam  raandl  «t  omnsm  onutum  aMeoll  oontemiwl  propter  unanm  Dooaial 
oel  Jmu  ObrMli  qa*m  vldl,  qa^a  uiutI,  1b  qiMin  er«dldl,  qacm  dUcxL"— J^ohmm* 
S/vrtory. 

**  lo  Bldalo  iMO  mwrin.^—Job  xzlx.  18. 

Ik  the  mean  time  the  King  of  Hungary,  the  rich  and 
powcrfal  father  of  this  poor  nursing  mother  of  the  sick,  heard 
from  the  Hungarian  pilgrims  who  returned  from  Aiz  la 
Chapelle  and  other  holy  places  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
of  the  state  of  poverty  and  desolation  to  which  his  daughter 
was  reduced.  They  related  to  him  how  shocked  they  were 
to  find  that  their  princess  lived  without  honours,  without  a 
court,  without  the  least  possible  mark  of  her  royal  rank.      "* 

The  king  was  alarmed  and  moved  even  to  tears  on  learning 
this  story,  he  complained  before  his  council  of  the  injuriet 
done  his  child,  and  resolved  to  send  an  ambassador  to  .bring 
her  to  him.  He  confided  this  mission  to  Count  Banfi  ;  thii 
noble  set  out  for  Thuriogia,  and  soon  arrived  at  Wartbourg. 
He  there  found  the  Landgrave  Henry,  and  demanded  from 
him  the  reason  of  the  extraordinary  position  wherein  the 
Dachess  was  placed.  The  Prince  thus  replied  to  him  :  "  My 
EJster  has  become  quite  mad,  every  one  knows  it,  you  will 
Bee  it  yourself.'*  He  then  related  to  the  Count  how  she  had 
retired  to  Marburg,  the  extraordinary  life  she  led  there,  tend- 
ing the  lepers  and  associating  only  with  the  poor,  with  many 
other  details  of  this  kind. 

He  pointed  out  to  the  Ambassador  how  Elizabeth^s  poverty 
was  quite  voluntary,  as  he  had  ensured  to  her  the  possts- 


-    i    r 


I 


ii 


■'m^M 


<4  iiiifi 


i     .;« 


SCO 


LirS    or    ST.     BLICAUBTHT, 


I 

t 

1 

! 
1 

'    H 

i': 

'  i 

•ion  of  all  she  could  desire.     The  Count  was  astonished,  and 
tet  out  for  Marburg.      When  he  arrived  there  he  aakitl  tlie 
inu-kecpcr  with  whom  he  stopped,  what  he  thought  of  tho 
Lndj  named  Elizabeth  who  had  coioe  irom  Hungary  to  tliis 
country ;  why  lived   she  thus  in   misery  ;  why  she  quitted 
ihe  prhioes  of  her  late  hnsband's  fhmily  ;  and  whctlicr  there 
was  any  charge  against  hei  honour.     "She  is  a  most  pious 
lady  and  riglit  virtuous,"  replied  the  inn-keeper,  "  she  is  as 
rich  as  she  can  wish  to  be,  for  this  city  and  its  neighbouHuKK], 
which  is  extensive,  is  her  sole  pro])erty  ;  and  if  she  wislicd, 
she  could  have  chosen  from  amongst  many  princes  a  s[)ouse. 
But  in  her  great  humility  she  lives  thus  in  misery,  she  would 
not  dwell  in  the  city,  but  riemains  near  the  hospital  which  she 
built,  for  she  despises  all  this  world's  wealth.     God  conferred 
on  as  a  great  favour  in  sending  to  us  this  pious  lady,  it  is 
profitable  to  the  salvation  of  all  even  to  come  in  contact  with 
her.     She  never  wearies  in  her  works  of  charity,  she  is  most 
chaste,  most  gentle,  most  merciful,  but  beyond  all,  she  is 
the  most  humble  woman  in  the  world. 

The  Count  then  asked  this  good  man  to  bring  him  to  her ; 
when  arrived  the  inn4cceper  went  in  first  and  said :  "  Madnm. 
here  is  one  of  yonr  friends  seeking  you,  and  who  I  think 
wishes  to  speak  to  you.''  The  Ambassador  having  entered  the 
hot,  and  seeing  the  daughter  of  his  Boyal  master  engaged  at 
work,  was  so  affected  that  he  burst  into  tears,  and  making 
the  sign  of  the  Cross  he  cried  out,  "  Did  any  one  ever  before 
see  a  king's  daughter  spinning  wool?"    Being  seated  then 
beside  her  he  began  to  tell  how  her  father  had  sent  him  to 
seek  her,  and  to  bring  her  back  to  the  countrj  wherein  she 
was  born,  where  she  would  be  treated  with  all  the  honour 
due  to  her  rank,  and  where  the  king  would  ever  regard  her 
as  his  best  beloved  child.     But  she  listened  not  to  hi^  persua- 
sions.   "  For  what  do  yoa  take  me  ?"  aaid  she  to  him,  "  1 
am  but  a  poor  sinner  who  ae?er  obeyed  the  law  of  Qod  as  I 


OF    ■VirOA»T. 


901 


on^'lit  to  have  done.**  *'And  who  has  reduced  you  to  thi* 
itato  of  misery?"  asked  the  Count  **No  one/'  replied  she, 
'-|)iit  the  infinitely  rich  Son  of  my  Heavenly  Fatiicr,  who  hnt 
kitigiit  me  by  his  example  to  despise  riches  and  to  love  poT* 
eily  beyond  all  the  kingdoms  of  this  world."  And  then  sh« 
tulii  him  her  histoiy  since  her  widowhood,  and  her  inten- 
tions for  hef  fatnre  life.  She  assured  him  that  sbd  had  M 
reason  to  complain  of  any  one,  that  she  wanted  not  for  any- 
tiling,  and  that  she  was  perfectly  happy. 

Notwithstanding  this  contentment,  the  Count  strove  to 
induce  her  to  accompany  him.  "Come,"  said  he,  "noble 
Queen,  come  with  me  to  your  dear  father,  come,  possess 
your  kingdom  and  your  inheritance."  "I  hope  indeed," 
replied  she,  "  that  I  already  possess  my  Father^s  inheritance, 
—that  is  to  say,  the  eternal  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesoa  Christ.** 

Still  the  Ambassador  entreated  of  her  not  to  afflidt  her 
royal  father  by  leading  a  life  so  unworthy  of  her  rank,  aud 
not  to  grieve  him  b}  refushig  to  accede  to  his  hope  that  she 
would  return  to  him.  "  Say  to  my  dearest  lord  and  father/* 
replied  Elizabeth,  "  that  I  am  more  happy  in  this  conterap- 
til)le  life  than  he  is  in  his  regal  pomp,  and  that  far  from  sor- 
rowing over  me,  he  ought  to  rejoice  that  he  has  a  child  in  the 
Borvice  of  the  King  of  Heaven.  All  that  J  ask  of  him  is  to 
pray,  and  to  have  prayers  offered  for  me,  and  I  will  eease- 
lessly  pray  for  him  as  long  as  life  is  left  me.'* 

The  Count  seeing  that  all  his  efforts  were  vain,  took  leave 
of  her  with  sincere  grief.  But  she  returned  to  her  spindle, 
happy  to  be  able,  as  she  had  renounced  all  for  Jesus,  to  re> 
Alize  in  anticipation  the  sublime  words  which  the  Church  usei 
ill  tUt  office  of  holy  women  : 

"  The  kingdom  of  this  World  and  all  the  vanities  of  the 
ai;e  have  I  despised  for  the  love  of  my  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
Him  whom  I  have  seen,  whom  I  have  loved,  in  whom  I  haT« 
Mlicved,  and  whom  I  have  preferred.'' 


&IfX 


CHAPTER  XXn. 


DBAB    IT.    BLBABITH    DI8TRIBUTID    ALL 
AMOMOST  TBI  POOB. 


PBOPERTI 


omneni  rabttantfaun  donrat  tjivm  pn 
d«ploi«t  MIB.*'— CbfiMo.  TlH.  T. 


[1! 


MwHwn,  qoMl  alU 


**  Galore  eharitatli 
Caleflteli  paaperas 
Ja.Tt*  prunw  nndftotli 
LvtMitar  Immcmorcs.'* 

AfUhtm  qf  St.  BtUaUlh^  In  tKe  aneifm. 
Breviary  of  tht  Dominieant. 


HowBviR  convinced  the  Landgrave  Ucnry  might  have 
been  of  the  folly  of  his  sister-in-law,  he  did  not  think  himself 
the  less  obliged  to  fol&l  the  promises  he  had  of  his  free  will 
made  to  her  ;  the  fear  of  the  Pope  who  had  constituted  himself 
Elizabeth's  protector,  and  the  iufinence  of  Conrad  of  Mar* 
barg,  which  was  as  gpreat  over  him  as  it  had  been  over  iiis 
brother  Louis,  might  have  contributed  to  this  fidelity.  He 
sent  her  then  the  five  hundred  marks  of  silver  that  he  had 
promised  at  the  time  of  her  departure  from  Wartbonrg  to 
defray  the  expense  incurred  in  forming  her  new  establishment. 

This  increase  of  riches  appeared  to  the  charitable  princess 

as  a  favourable  opportunity  for  realizing  a  project  whfcli  she 

had  long  entertained,  namely,  that  of  throwing  off  the  care  of 

the  wealth  which  she  held  as  her  private  property  by  depriving 

herself  of  the  means  of  enjoying  it. 

Regardless  of  the  order  of  Master  Conrad,  and  perhaps 
unknown  to  him,  the  had  parted  with  all  that  her  brother-in* 
law  had  been  obliged  to  restore  to  her  at  the  return  of  the 
Crusader  knights,  and   this  produced   the  very  considcrabh 


OF    nUNOART. 


mm,  for  those  timed,  of  two  thoa^and  ratrkf.  "She  endeo- 
Toiircd,''  says  one  of  her  pious  historians,  "  to  n.^e  the  changefal 
riches  of  this  world  in  sach  a  manner,  as  woold  tend  to  porchase 
for  Iter  the  changeless  happiness  of  eternal  life.''  She  sold  al! 
the  jewels  that  remained  in  her  possession,  and  all  the  pre- 
leiitfl  that  had  been  sent  her  by  her  relatives  in  Hungary  ; 
Amongst  them,  yases  of  gold  and  silver,  stuffs  embroidered  b 
^1(1  and  some  ornaments  set  with  gems  of  the  highest  value. 
All  the  money  that  she  received  for  these,  as  well  as  what  she 
derived  firom  her  domains,  she  distributed  amongst  the  poor 
at  different  times,  and  so  abundantly,  that  it  gained  for  her 
the  reputation  of  being  wasteful  and  even  mad,  from  those 
who  stood  not  in  need  of  her  assistance.  But  she  was  not 
grieved  by  this,  for  she  knew  that  it  was  good  to  buy  her 
eternal  salvation  by  sacrificing  these  perishable  riches.  When 
she  receircd  the  five  hundred  marks  from  Duke  Henry,  she 
resolTed  to  give  it  all  away  at  one  time.  To  give  her  charity 
an  extension  proportionate  to  the  sum  of  which  she  had  to 
dispose,  she  had  published  in  every  place  for  twenty-five 
loof^ues  around  Marburg,  that  all  the  poor  were  to  assemble 
on  a  certain  day  in  a  plain  near  Wehrda,  that  village  wherein 
site  had  passed  the  first  days  of  her  voluntary  poverty. 

At  the  appointed  time  there  came  there  several  thousand 
mendicants,  blind,  lame  and  infirm  of  both  sexes ;  and  in 
addition  a  vast  crowd  to  witness  this  extraordinary  spectacle. 
To  maintain  order  in  this  multitude  fh€  Duchess  had  appointed 
officers,  robust  men,  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  all  in  their 
places,  so  that  thus  strict  justice  was  established  in  distribut- 
inp:  the  alms  equally  amongst  the  poor,  who  were  too  frequently 
nidc  and  impatient,  and  care  was  taken  that  none  could  apply 
Uviee,  thus  to  deprive  some  other  of  his  destined  portion. 
Elizabeth  ordered  that  any  one  who  should  transgress  thif 
rule  by  leaving  a  place,  should  have  hii  or  h«r  hair  cut  off 
immediately. 


PI 


k     \    4i; 


^      1^ 


LIFB    Of    ST.    ILIIABITH, 


ii' 


i\\' 


(flrii 


A  yonng  girl  uuned  Rodegonda,  remarkable  for  tht 
bMotj  of  her  bair,  bafing  been  diieovered  leaving;  h^r 
place,  waA  deprifed  of  the  fair  ringlets,  which,  accontmi; 
to  the  cuntom  of  the  maidene  of  Marburg,  slie  wore  floc4  ng 
down  over  her  shouldert.  Radi'goiida  began  to  weep  nn  i  •  i? 
out  loudly.  She  wae  brooght  before  th<^DachcM,  who  ut  tint 
cotigrattilatod  her  on  being,  froiu  the  Iom  of  her  tresMt  s,  no 
longer  able  to  share  in  profane  rejoicings  ;  and  then  with  tlie 
profonnd  instinct  of  holy  souls,  Elizabeth  asked  her  if  ever 
she  had  entertained  the  project  of  leading  a  bettor  l|fc.  I{a* 
degondii  replied  :  ''  A  long  time  ago  I  would  have  consccrutrd 
myself  to  the  Lord  by  assuming  the  religions  habit,  if  it  \V(  ;e 
not  too  great  an  effort  to  sacrifice  the  beauty  of  my  hnir.' 
At  these  words  Elizabeth  cried  out  joyfully :  "  I  am  ha)>|)icr 
then  that  they  have  cnt  away  thy  curls,  than  if  I  heurd  that 
n^y  son  was  elected  Emperor  of  the  Romans.'*  She  then  cooic 
with  her  this  young  girl,  who,  profiting  of  the  warning  in- 
voluntarily received  that  day,  consecrated  herself  to  tlie 
vervico  of  God  and  of  the  poor  in  the  hospital  founded  by  the 
Duchess.  '  f   '  * 

Meanwhile  the  announced  distribution  was  made  by  steady 
and  faithful  men  whom  Elizabeth  had  appointed  for  the  pur- 
pose. She  presided  over  all,  and  went  from  rank  to  ruiiii 
girded  round  with  a  cloth,  as  was  our  Lord  when  he  minis- 
tered to  his  disciples.  She  wandered  amongst  the  vast 
ikisemblage,  glorying  in  and  enjoying  the  happiness  of  which 
she  wac  the  cause— her  face  serene  and  tranqdil,  gladness  in 
her  heart,  gentle  and  affectionate  words  upon  her  !i)M,  parti- 
cularly when  addressing  the  strangers  whoc  >t' .  lu  .  lor  tho 
first  timO)  adding  a  sweet  gaiety  to  her  compassion,  a  ccles- 
iit\  simplicity  to  her  boundless  generosity,  finding  at  every 
fltep  PcW  vcmfort  for  new  sorrows.  This  daughter  of  a  king 
found  ixr^'^lf  <^t  lenf;th  in  the  midst  of  a  court  that  well 
pleased  hor,  Imly  ^n>im  of  that  day  by  her  mercy ;  there  wai 


OF    nVWOAIIT. 


Ml 


fho  in  the  mtditt  of  her  army  of  poor,  m  m  enthroned  lore* 
rii^^n,  (1  notwithatanding  the  misernble  conttnne  which  ibt 
lind  adopted,  to  the  admiring  evcf  it  thoHo  v:  hose  griefs  iht 
B.«Miagefl,  iihe  appeared  as  brilliant  o  <  *^t  son,  and  clad  !■ 
garments  whiter  than  the  snow. 

The  fire  hundred  marlKS  distributed,  night  began  *m  fall,  4 
ind  the  moon  rose  in  unclonded  splendour,  th'>  poor  people 
let  out.  to  regain  their  distant  homes;  bnt  a  ^roat  number 
W'Tf  'Oo  ['o'  Me  to  Imj  able  to  depart  so  soon,  and  these  were 
p.  paring  U>  pass  the  night  in  some  of  the  buildings  adjacent 
to  (lu  iospital.  Elizabeth  at  her  return  perceived  thorn,  niul 
aiwiiys  infiuenced  by  her  tender  compassion,  she  said  ^o  her 
HttLii'lajits,  "Ah,  here  are  some  poor  crentares,  let  us  give 
tficm  something/'  Upon  wliich  she  handed  to  each  one  six- 
pence of  Cologne,  and  gave  to  the  little  children  amoi  ^st 
them  as  much  as  to  the  grown  people. 

Then  she  sent  for  a  great  quantity  of  bread  and  distribnt<'d 
it  to  them,  after  which  she  said,  "  I  wish  that  these  poor 
ones  should  enjoy  an  entire  feast,  give  them  some  (ire. ' 
According  to  her  orders  large  fires  were  kindled,  and  the  at- 
tendants washed  the  feet  of  the  weary  travellers.  These  poor 
ones  seeing  themselves  so  well  treated,  rejoiced  and  began  to 
sing.  Elizabeth  hearing  their  cheerful  voices,  felt  her  tender 
and  innocent  heart  moved,  and  cried  out  joyfully,  "I  said 
indeed  that  we  ought  to  make  these  poor  people  as  happy  as 
possible,**  and  iiikraediutely  she  went  forth  to  witness  their 
gl.-td'-.ess. 

Well,  oh,  noble  and  holy  soul,  did  you  study  the  wonder- 
ful power  of  contributing  to  the  happiness  of  others  I  So  se- 
vere and  pitiless  to  yourself,  you  were  early  initiated  into  the 
plenitude  of  tliis  k-ait-touching  mystery  1 

Tlie  terrestrial  bliss  that  you  completely  renounced  in  your 
uwu  life,  yiHu  nought  with  generous  perseverance  to  bestow 
D|M)n  your  poor  brcthreu  I 


II 


t 


f06 


LIFE    or    ST.     ILIZABKTH, 


How  we  rejoice  in  thinking  that  in  Heaven  where  vod 
receive  the  eternal  reward  of  all  fervent  charity,  yon  arc  still 
animated  by  the  pions  soUcitado  that  replenished  yonr  heart 
when  on  earth  !  and  how  consoling  it  is  to  ns  to  believe  tliut 
the  poor  souls  who,  in  their  sadness  and  poverty,  call  upon 
yoo  from  this  world  of  woe,  are  not  unheeded  by  this  inex- 
haustible pity,  which  has  but  acquired  redoabled  energy  aod 
ardoui  from  your  blessed  immortslity  I 


OV    HUHOABT. 


307 


'    I 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 


■OW  THB  DBAB  ST.  ELIZABETH  LEARNED  FROM  MASTEB  OOBRAD,  Wm 
m  ALL  THIM08  TO    DESTROY  SELF-WILL. 

*  MeMor  «st  ob«dl«ntts  qaam  rletlins.**— 1  lUff.  zt.  Hl 

••  Wm  te  them  ttant  dtaddn  to  hnmble  theniMlves  wtninglj  with  the  liUIeefalMrH^ 
for  the  low  gate  <^  the  heevenly  kiofdom  will  sot  soffer  them  to  enter  thither."-* 
Im.o/Ckri$t,B,m.  0.0^ 

Wb  may  have  thought  that  nothing  now  hindered  our 
Elizabeth  from  arriving  at  the  end  she  had  so  conrageonsly 
proposed  to  herself,  the  exclosive  loye  of  God  and  of  her 
brethren  in  God,  and  the  entire  contempt  of  this  world  and 
all  that  it  contains.  Tet  m  this  wonderfal  path  of  Christian 
perfection  she  had  still  many  obstacles  to  snrmonnt,  many 
victories,  and  these  the  most  difficalt  of  all  to  gain. 

It  was  not  sufficient  for  her  to  have  conquered  the  love  of 
tills  earth  and  all  its  fleeting  pleasnres,  she  had  still  to  com- 
bat against  that  which  it  is  the  greatest  task  of  all  to  vaa- 
quish,  her  own  will. 

It  became  necessary  that  however  pare  this  will  might  be, 
however  eager  for  Heaven,  however  detached  from  terrestrial 
matters,  it  should  do  nothing  of  itself,  but  that  it  should 
bend  before  every  inspiration  of  the  Divine  Will,  like  an  ear 
of  com  laden  with  its  grains,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the 
Heavenly  gleaner  to  gather  it  for  eternity. 

The  common  Father  of  the  faiti  ful  had  specially  charged 
one  person  with  the  care  of  this  precious  soul. 

Master  Conrad  of  Marburg  well  knew  what  Elizabeth 
was  capable  of  doing  for  God's  love,  and  he  resolved  to  lead 
her  to  the  supreme  attainment  of  evangelical  perfection,  by  » 


808 


tIFB    or    ST.     BLIEABETH, 


I       |i^ 


way,  repugnant  enough,  sur(  ly,  to  these  wise  times,  and  still 
more  so  to  the  sensuality  and  tepidity  of  our  languid  souls 
80  utterly  unaccustomed  to  all  idtas  of  lively  and  priK  tiral 
faith,  but  which  provoked  no  murmurs,  nor  even  exiita' 
Burpriso,  in  those  ages  of  heartfelt  simplicity,  of  absolute 
abandonment,  at  least  in  intention,  to  all  that  could  unite  the 
«oul  to  God. 

We  do  not  here  purpose  to  defend,  absolutely,  all  the  con. 
duct  of  Master  Conrad  towards  his  illustrious  penitent ;  the 
natural  violence  of  his  character,  to  which  he  at  length  fell  a 
victim,  may  have  often  led  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  Chris- 
tian moderation  ;  but  we  can  say  that,  not  only  was  such 
conduct  authorized  by  numerous  examples  throughout  all 
Christian  ages,  but  that  even  we  prefer,  rather  than  to  judse 
harshly  of  the  character  of  such  a  man,  to  associate  ourstlves 
in  the  entire  submission  of  this  noble  princess,  who  in  all 
things  sought  to  bend  her  bead  to  the  Divine  Yoke,  and  to 
follow  in  the  footsteps  of  Him  "Who  for  our  sakes  became 
obedient  even  unto  the  death  of  the  Cross." 

Master  Conrad  havinjj  then  resolved  to  combat  and  tc 
erailicate  from  the  soul  of  Elizabeth  the  onlv  source  of  hii- 

•I 

man  consolation  which  he  could  now  discover  there,  com- 
menced by  attacking  her  will  in  the  point  where  it  was  most 
praiseworthy  and  deep-rooted,  namely,  in  the  exercise  of  all 
the  works  of  mercy. 

He  placed  a  restriction,  a  very  cruel  one  to  her,  npon  her 
generosity,  of  which  we  have  related  so  many  signal  proofs, 
by  forbidding  her  to  give  any  poor  person  more  than  one 
penny.  Before  submitting  to  so  unpleasing  a  command, 
Elizabeth  sought  to  eva  le  it  in  many  ways  without  being 
disobedient.  She  first  had  pence  struck  of  silver  instead  of 
copper,  and  these  she  gave  as  pence,  though  they  were  equal 
in  value  to  a  shilling  of  the  country.  The  poor  people,  accus* 
iomed  to  her  former  maniflcence,  soon  began  to  complain  of 


OT    BCMeAlir. 


801 


till  parsimony  of  her  giflR,  but  she  said  to  them,  "  I  am  for* 
hit  Men  to  give  you  more  than  a  penny  at  one  time,  but  that 
do  s  not  hinder  mc  from  giviug  one  eacii  time  you  come/' 
T!i '  mendicants  did  not  fail  to  profit  of  this  suggestion  ;  and 
after  having  received  the  first  doitation,  they  would  walk 
QMund  the  hospital  and  then  return  for  another.  This  con- 
dint  they  carried  to  excess. 

In  place  of  being  affected  by  these  innocent  wiles,  Conrad 
having  discovered  them  was  so  angry  with  her  as  to  give  her 
Mows,  but  she  endured  this  punishment  with  joy,  for  during 
n  long  time  she  had  ardently  desired  to  partake  of  every 
insult  that  her  Divine  Saviour  had  endured  before  He  died 
for  her  salvation. 

Conrad  then  prohibited  her  from  giving  away  money  at  all, 
hilt  he  permitted  her  to  distribute  bread.  Soon,  however,  he 
discovered  that  she  was  too  prodigal  of  this  species  of  relief, 
mid  he  forbade  her  to  give  loaves,  but  allowed  her  to  share 
thcra  in  slices.  Still  later,  he  made  her  cease  all  alms-giving, 
niid  left  her  no  means  of  exercising  her  ardent  charity,  but  io 
tdidiiig  the  sick  and  infirm  ;  and  even  here  he  took  the  pre- 
riintion  of  forhiddina:  her  all  inteivourse  with  those  most  dear 
to  her — the  lepers — and  when  her  compassion  forced  her  to 
transgress  this  injunction,  he  hesitated  not  to  strike  her  8©- 
vcnly.  We  can  imagine  the  grief  that  Elizabeth  experienced 
in  finding  herself  thus  deprived  of  a  liberty  which  during  her 
whole  life  had  been  so  precious  and  so  necessary  to  her,  and 
in  thus  seeing  a  barrier  raised  between  her  affectionate  pity 
n;id  the  wants  of  the  unhappy.  Nevertheless  she  felt  that  her 
now  duty  had  assumed  the  place  of  all  the  others  ;  she  under* 
Ftood  that  the  entire  self-denial  of  which  she  had  made  a  vow 
rofiuired  that  she  should  give  up  everything  which  afforded 
hiT  enjoyment  or  human  consolation  ;  and  certainly  there  was 
mnoh  of  both  for  her  in  the  practice  of  alms-giving.  She 
knew  how  to  make  the  sacrifice,  she  learned  to  obey  withoat 


T' 


810 


LIFB    OF    «T.    ILISABBTSi 


1 : 

i ; 

a  marmnr,  and  soon  she  became  well  skilled  in  tho  si  prcma 
icience  which  is  to  a  Christian  the  achievement  of  ?ictory. 

No  fatigne,  no  trouble  seemed  too  great  for  her  whon  it 
uicame  necessary  to  conform  to  the  wishes  of  him  whom  she 
had  accustomed  herself  to  regard  as  the  representative  of  the 
Divine  Will  towards  her.  No  distance  seemed  too  loiiu'  for 
her  to  travel  when  he  sent  for  her,  yet  he  used  not  towards 
her  any  of  the  inducements  that  we  would  be  inclined  to  think 
that  her  sex,  her  youth,  her  rank  required  ;  it  would  appear 
as  if  he  strove  to  make  the  way  of  salvation  rough  and  tlioniy 
to  her,  that  she  might  go  before  the  eternal  judge  adorned 
with  more  merit. 

A  French  writer  says  :  "  The  holy  man  did  all  he  could  to 
conquer  her  will,  to  fix  all  her  love  upon  Qod,  and  to  forget 
her  former  glory.  And  in  all  things  she  was  eager  to  obey 
and  firm  to  endure.  In  patience  she  possessed  her  soul,  and 
her  victory  was  ennobled  by  obedience." 

This  obedience  was  prompt  and  perfect  in  the  least  things, 
as  well  as  in  the  greatest. 

One  day  when  she  had  set  out  to  visit  a  hermit  who  dwdt 
near  Marburg,  Conrad  sent  her  word  to  come  back  iinnudi 
ately.  She  did  so,  saying  smilingly  to  the  messenger,  "  If 
we  are  wise  we  will  act  like  the  snails,  who  in  time  of  rain 
keep  within  their  shells,  let  us  obey  and  return  at  once.'' 
She  concealed  not  the  fear  that  she  had  of  her  director,  not 
for  his  own  sake,  but  as  God's  representative  towards  hr 
She  used  to  say  to  her  maidens,  "  If  I  so  much  fear  a  mor- 
tal man,  how  far  more  shall  I  tremble  before  God  wlio  ii 
the  Lord  and  judge  of  all  mankind.** 

This  fear  was  all  spiritual,  for  she  had  given  up  her  will 
into  his  keeping,  principally  because  he  was  poor  and  deprived 
of  all  worldly  greati>oss  as  she  wished  to  be  herself.  "  I  have 
chosen,"  she  remarked,  "  the  life  of  the  poorest  order  becaus(» 
it  is  the  most  despised,  and  had  there  been  one  still  lower  I 


OF    HUNOART. 


sn 


voiild  have  selected  it.  I  coald  bare  in»de  a  tow  of  obe* 
dience  to  a  Bishop  or  to  a  wealthy  Abbot,  but  I  preferred 
Master  Conrad  because  be  was  nothing,  he  is  but  a  poor 
nic  iiilieant,  and  tlius  I  hare  no  resource  in  this  life.'' 

And  Master  Conrad  pitilessly  used  the  power  with  which 
site  had  invested  him.  He  having  been  at  the  convent  of 
AKlenburg  where  her  daughter  Gertrude  was,  he  had  an  idea 
of  making  Idllizabeth  enter  it,  and  he  sent  for  her  to  Marburg 
to  come  and  deliberate  with  him  on  the  subject.  She  obeyed 
his  orders.  The  nuns  having  heard  of  her  arrival,  asked 
Muster  Conrad's  permission  for  her  to  enter  the  cloister  that 
they  might  see  her.  He  wishing  to  test  her  obedience,  after 
informing  her  that  any  person  of  either  sex  who  crossed  the 
cloister  incurred  excommunication,  said,  "  Let  her  go  in  if  she 
wishes.''  Elizabeth  taking  these  words  for  permission,  en- 
tered the  prohibited  ground.  Conrad  made  her  come  out  im- 
mediately, and  showing  her  the  book  wherein  her  vow  of  obe- 
dience to  him  in  all  things  was  inscribed,  he  ordered  a  monk 
who  accompanied  him,  to  inflict  on  her  and  on  her  maid  Ir- 
mengarde,  as  a  penance,  a  certain  namber  of  blows  with  a 
long  stick  which  he  found  there.  During  the  execution  of 
this  sentence  Conrad  chaunted  the  Miserere^  and  the  Dochest 
sabmitted  with  supernatural  patience  to  this  seiera  pnnisli- 
ment  for  so  trifling  a  fault. 

Speaking  of  the  matter  in  a  little  while  afterwards  to  Ir- 
mengarde,  she  said  :  "  We  must  patiently  endure  these  chas- 
tisements, for  we  are  like  reeds  growing  by  the  water-side— 
when  the  river  overflows  the  reed  bends  and  ihe  inundation 
piisses  07er  without  breaking  it,  and  when  the  waters  decline 
it  rises  in  its  strength  and  enjoys  a  new  life.  If  we,  too, 
fioroetimes  bend  towards  the  earth  in  all  humility,  we  caQ 
arise  with  new-found  joy  and  confidence. 

On  another  occasion,  Conrad  preached  on  the  Passion, 
that  Elizabeth  might  gaic  the  indulgence  granted  by  tht 


319 


LIFS    or    ST.    ILIZABITH, 


Pope  to  all  who  would  assist  at  his  sermons,  as  CotnmIs«;ary> 
A]30stolic.  But  absorbed  in  the  care  of  some  newly-admitted 
patients  in  her  hospital,  she  neglected  going  to  hear  him 
The  sermon  over,  he  sent  for  her,  and  inquired  what  slio  liad 
been  doing,  that  caused  her  absence;  and,  without  givin.; 
her  time  to  reply,  he  struck  her  rudely,  saying,  "Tuke  that, 
to  remind  you  to  come  the  next  time  I  send  for  you."  The 
bumble  and  patient  princess  smiled,  and  was  about  to  e\(  ine 
herself,  when  he  struck  her  so  severely  as  to  cause  blood  to 
6ow.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  kept  them  fixed 
thereon  for  some  time  ;  then  she  said,  "  Lord,  I  thank  tlice 
for  having  chosen  me  for  this.*'  Her  women  came  to  co.i- 
sole  her,  and,  seeing  her  garments  blood-stiUned,  they  ask*  d 
her  how  she  had  been  able  to  endure  so  many  blows.  She 
replied,  "  For  having  endured  them  patiently,  God  perniittod 
me  to  see  Christ  in  the  midst  of  his  angels  ;  for  the  Master's 
Mows  elevated  me  to  the  third  heaven."  This  saying  was 
reported  to  Conrad,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Then  I  will  for  ever 
regret  that  I  did  not  transport  her  to  the  ninth  heaven." 

We  repeat,  that  it  is  not  with  the  thoughts  of  this  nine- 
teenth century  we  must  judge  of  such  scenes.  The  customs 
of  the  ascetic  life,  of  Christian  trials,  are  not  the  same  in 
every  age  of  the  Church  ;  bat  at  no  time  do  they  merit  the 
disdain  or  contempt  of  the  faithful,  for  they  have  ever  offerfd 
to  all  souls  immortal  victories  of  chanty,  humility,  and  ^If- 
denial  to  gain,  and  the  power  of  achieving  a  pure  and  holy 
glory. 

:  Whilst  the  -SupTeme  Judge  weighed  in  his  eternally  just 
balance  this  severity  of  his  minister  and  this  invincible  pa- 
tience of  bis  humble  spouse,  profane  men  found  in  these  rel.i- 
tions  food  'or  their  malignity,  and  prepared  for  Elizabeth  a 
new  sacrifice,  to  join  to  all  those  previously  offered  to  her  Di- 
vine Master. 

After  they  had  cried  her  down  ae  wasteful  rnd  foolisl^ 


or     UUNOAKT. 


Slf 


ftn<l  proolaimcd  everywhere  tiiat  she  had  lost  her  senses,  they 
tnovti  to  aspc'i*8e  her  fair  fame  by  infamous  auspicions  and 
ohscure  hints  on  the  n:Uure  of  her  connection  with  Master 
Conrad.  They  said  that  this  monk  had  seduced  the  widow 
ol  Duke  Louis,  and  carried  her  away  to  Marburg,  there  to 
enjoy  her  property  and  riches.  The  youtli  of  tlie  Duchess, 
who  was  then  but  about  the  age  of  twenty-two  years,  gave 
a  siiadow  of  a  pretext  for  these  calumnies.  They  nppetured 
<iutHciently  serious  to  the  Lord  Rodoiph  de  Varila,  tc 
in<luce  him  to  go  and  visit  her.  This  true  and  prudent 
icniglit  went  then  to  Marburg,  and,  approaching  the  Duch- 
ess  with  great  respect,  said  to  her,  "  Will  you  permit  me, 
iiiHclam,  to  speak  to  you  freely  without  any  reserve!** 
Kliznbeih  replied  humbly  that  she  was  most  willing  t4 
listen.  "I  beg,  then,**  said  he,  **of  my  dear  lady  to  watch 
over  her  renown,  for  her  familiarity  with  Master  Conrad  ht8 
given  rise  to  false  notions  and  unjust  suspicions  in  the  minds 
of  the  vulgar  and  ignoble  herd.''  Elizabeth  raised  her  eyes 
10  heaven,  and  with  an  unruffled  countenance  she  replied — 
"  Blessed  in  all  thitigs  be  our  most  dear  and  merciful  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  my  only  Friend,  who  deigns  to  receive  from 
me  this  little  offering.  For  his  iove  I  devoted  myself  to  his 
serviet; ;  I  forgot  my  noble  birth  ;  I  despised  my  riches  and 
possessions  ;  I  permitted  my  youth  and  beauty  to  fade  away  ; 
I  renounced  my  father,  my  country,  my  children,  and,  with 
thera,  all  the  consolations  of  life  ;  I  became  poorest  of  the 
jtoor.  One  only  treasure  did  I  retain, — my  womanly  honour 
and  reputation  :  but  now,  from  what  I  learn,  it  seems  that  Ho 
requires  that  also  ;  as  He  accepts,  as  a  special  sacrifice,  my 
tafr  fame,  I  must  strive  to  endure  for  His  sake  this  ignominy. 
I  consent  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  dishonoured  woman  ;  bok 
oh,  my  dear  Lord,  remember  my  poor  children ;  they  art 
innocent ;  deign  to  preserve  them  from  any  shame  that  mighl 
fall  upon  them  on  my  account." 
14 


I 


i?      i 


tl4 


LIFM    OF    ST.    ILIIABlTIf 


Wishing  to  assure  her  old  friend,  and  to  testify  her  ?Tiitv 
tnde  for  bis  devotion,  she  added,  "  For  your  part,  my  dear 
lord,  have  no  snspicion  of  me ;  see  my  wounded  bIiouM'  is" 
— and  she  bared  them,  to  show  the  marks  of  the  last  I)lnw4 
she  had  receired—" behold,''  said  she,  "the  love  this  holy 
priest  entertains  for  me  1  or,  rather,  see  how  he  animates  me 
to  the  love  of  God  !"  "  Admirable  union,"  says  her  histo- 
rian, "  of  humility,  patience,  and  vious  prudence,  rhich,  while 
rendering  glory  to  Qod,  while  enduring  unmerited  ignoiniity, 
knew  also  how  to  banish  thoughts  of  evil  from  the  miud  uf 
her  neighbour !" 

And  it  was  Kot  alone  by  those  external  and  corporal  |)ini- 
ishments  that  Conrad  exercised  the  unlimited  power  where- 
with she  had  intrusted  him  ;  he  strove  still  more  to  coi)(}iK'r 
her  heart,  by  tearing  from  it  every  fibre  of  affection  and 
effacing  every  human  predilection,  in  order  that  it  should  be 
filled  alone  with  the  thought  and  love  of  God.  Of  all  the 
enjoyments  of  her  past  life,  Elizabeth  bad  retained  but  one, 
and  that  was,  the  eufitom  of  living  with  the  friends  of  her 
youth,  who  had  shared  in  the  grandeur  of  her  life  as  a  sove- 
reign, who  had  eaten  with  her  the  bread  of' misery  on  her 
expulsion  from  Wartburg,  and  who  at  length,  insepanihie 
and  faithful  companions  as  they  were,  had  associated  them- 
selves in  all  the  voluntary  privations  of  her  religious  life— iu 
all  her  works  of  mercy — in  all  her  penance  and  her  piety. 

It  may  have  been  that,  unknown  to  her,  the  ties  of  tender 
sympathy  which  united  Elizabeth  to  her  faithful  friends  had 
softened  many  a  pang — had  lessened  the  galling  of  the  yvike 
of  so  many  mortifications  and  trials ;  and  this  young  heart 
which  we  have  seen  glowing  with  unspeakable  charity  for  all 
mankind,  necessarily  appreciated  this  sweet  and  pious  con  so 
Jation.  No  intimacy  could  be  more  perfect  or  more  beautiful, 
than  that  which  existed  between  the  princess  and  her  attend- 
ants, and  this  may  be  traced  in  every  line  of  their  narrativd 


OW    UUMQART. 


of  her  life.    Conrad  resolred  to  reud  asmider  thii  chain  of 
tr.ie  frieDdsliip. 

One  by  one,  he  sent  away  the  retainers  of  her  former 
e^tal>lLshment,  and  the  departare  of  each  caused  her  inex* 
pri  ssible  grief.  Then  he  came  to  tier  two  friends.  It  was 
tirst  the  fate  of  Ysentrode,  whom  Elizabeth  loved  most 
tiearly,  and  from  whom  she  never  concealed  a  thought, 
either  before  or  since  her  retreat  from  the  world.  This  faith- 
ful friend  "\  ,  "She  was  obliged  to  see  me  driven  fh>m 
her — even  lae,  Ysent/ude,  whom  she  loved  beyond  all 
others  ;  and  when  parting  from  me,  her  heart  was  almost 
riven  with  anguish,  and  the  tears  were  streaming  fron  hei 
eyes."  And  afterwards,  Guta,  who  had  never  left  her  since 
she  was  five  years  old,  and  to  whom  she  was  most  tenderly 
attached,  was  sent  away,  nowithstanding  the  bitter  sobbing 
and  weeping  of  the  suffering  Elizabeth. 

"  It  seemed  to  her,^  says  a  pious  historian,  (Pere  Kochem,) 
whose  simple  language  we  love  to  quote  on  this  subject,  "  as 
if  her  heart  was  broken  ;  and  this  faithful  servant  of  Ood 
preserved  this  grief  until  her  death.  Any  true  soul  can  com- 
prehend this  easily,  for  there  is  not  in  this  world  a  greater 
tiorrow  than  when  two  faithful  hearts  are  separated.  0,  dear 
St.  Elizabeth  !  I  recall  this  parting  to  thy  memory,  and,  by 
tlic  bitter  anguish  thou  didst  suffer  then  with  thy  best-beloved 
friends,  obtain  for  me  the  grace  to  understand  what  evil  it 
was  in  me  to  separate  myself,  by  sin,  so  often  firom  my 
God!" 

The  victim  then,  before  the  God  to  whom  she  had  immo* 
la  ted  herself,  was  not  permitted  even  the  consolation  of 
entire  solitude.  Conrad  replaced  these  cherished  companions 
01  her  loneliness  by  two  Women  of  a  very  different  stamp. 
One,  named  Elizabeth,  was  chosen  from  amongst  the  com 
Oion  people,  tolerably  pious,  but  excessively  vulgar  and 
mdo — and,  withal,  so  ugly,  that  even  to  mention  her  w«» 


819 


LIFE    or    IT.     ILIZABKTR, 


!■  ■! 


RoSicient  to  frighten  children.  The  other  was  a  wiilow,  oil, 
and  (leaf,  of  a  bittcr-spcaking  and  revengeful  charai'ttr,  alw  nys 
dij^conteiited  and  wrathful. 

Elizabeth  resigned  herself  to  this  annoying  change  in  In  r 
liousehoUl  with  perfect  docility.  She  strove  to  advance  in 
humility  by  her  intercourse  with  the  rude  peasant,  uml  tu 
learu  patience  by  submitting  to  the  invectives  of  the  evi  r 
angry  old  woman.  These  two  servants  gave  her  every  il;.y 
many  trials,  and  treated  her  very  badly. 

Far  from  opposing  her  when,  throngh  a  spirit  of  pcnaiu  e, 
she  was  anxious  to  share  in  their  labours  and  domestic  car*  s, 
they  on  the  contrary  permitted  her  k)  do  the  most  fiti}.niiiig 
work,  to  sweep  the  house,  Ac. ;  and  when  watching  by  tho 
kitchen  fire,  the  princess  would  be  sometimes  so  ab.<:orl)0(l  in 
religious  contemplation,  as  to  suffer  the  meagre  food  upon  it 
to  burn,  then  her  servants  would  reproach  her  bitterly,  and 
taunt  her  that  she  did  not  even  know  how  to  make  a  8ou|i. 
"Yet  during  her  life  the  royal  lady  hud  never  learned  to 
eook,"  says  the  good  friar  whom  we  have  before  quoted. 

These  women  also  pitilessly  denounced  her  to  Master  Con- 
rad, whenever  she  obeyed  the  compassionate  impulse  of  in  t 
heart,  and  gave  alms,  forgetting  the  command  she  found  it 
BO  difficult  to  submit  to,  and  elicited  for  her  from  her  di- 
rector severe  reproof.  But  nothing  could  render  her  ui\- 
faithful  for  an  instant,  nor  even  excite  an  involuntary  movt^ 
raent  of  impatience  to  the  entire  submission  she  had  vowed 
to  him  wiio  seemed  to  her  to  be  specially  charged  to  conduct 
her  promptly  and  surely  to  the  eternal  country.  So  scru- 
pulous was  her  docility,  that  when  her  former  dearly  beloved 
friends,  Ysentrude  and  Guta,  came  to  visit  her,  she  scarcely 
dared  to  salute  them,  or  to  offer  them  any  refreshment, 
outil  she  had  received  permission  from  Master  Com  ad. 

Yet  still  another  trial  was  in  store  for  this  soul,  lo  loving, 
jpet  withal  so  determined  to  crush  its  own  tender  feelings , 


07    BCKOART. 


n 


and  this  was  to  be  a  new  sonrcc  of  triumph.  We  Iiotc  ieen 
how  she  w»i3  separated  from  her  children,  whom  «he  cher 
IslieU  with  a  devotion  so  intense,  that  her  love  of  Ood  alone 
could  surpass  it ;  yet  this  separation  had  neither  been  com- 
plete nor  absolute — the  maternal  heart  could  not  be  stilted, 
and  if  she  had  not  always  one  or  other  of  her  children  with 
her,  which  the  expression  of  some  of  her  bioip*aphers  would 
lead  us  to  think,  she  at  least  had  these  dear  ones  frequently 
brought  to  visit  her,  to  console  her  by  their  presence,  to 
permit  her  to  express  in  some  little  manner  her  unspeakable 
love,  by  looking  on  them,  caressing  them,  and  imprinting 
kisses  a  thousand-fold  on  their  young  brows.  But  soon  she 
discovered  that  in  her  heart  there  was  not  room  for  two  loves, 
— Ihat  no  creature  should  partake  of  what  she  had  devoted  to 
God.  Slie  found  that  the  presence  and  fondling  of  her  chil- 
dren hindered  her  from  applying  herself  with  her  usual  assi- 
duity to  prayer.  She  feared  to  love  any  creature  more  than 
God,  and — whether  at  the  instigation  of  Master  Conrad,  or 
from  her  own  determination,  we  know  n6t — she  sent  away 
for  ever  from  her  these  last  and  most  fervently  cherished  of 
all  the  sources  of  her  earthly  happines?. 

So  many  supernatural  victories  of  the  Divine  Grace  which 
Elizabeth  regarded  as  her  only  and  absolute  Sovereign,  could 
not  remain  long  unknown  ;  and  it  was  not  even  in  heaven 
alone  that  they  were  to  receive  the  entire  of  their  ineffable 
reward.  Men  at  last  prepared  themselves  to  do  homage  to 
this  heroine  of  faith  and  charity,  and  to  reward  the  children 
whom  she  had,  as  it  were,  abandoned  for  God's  love  by 
paying  to  them  all  the  veneration  with  which  au  age  of  faith 
could  invest  the  offspring  of  a  saint.  / 

Scarcely  had  a  few  years  flown  by,  when,  at  the  great" 
\ssembly  held  by  King  Louis  IX.  of  France,  was  seen  a 
young  German  prince,  about  eighteen  years  old  He  served 
with  the  Gcant  de  Saint  Pol  and  the  Count  de  Boulogne  at 


818 


Liri    Of    ST.    ILIIABBTB 


Uie  table  of  the  Qoeen — cTen  of  the  Qaeen  of  France,  wlio 
during  the  middle  ages  was  to  all  true  knighti  the  ^apr(rn« 
type  of  feminine  beaatj  and  excellence.  Blanche  of  CnHtille 
then  filled  this  proud  position.  The  attendants  whispered  one 
another  that  this  youth  was  the  son  of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Tliur- 
ingia,  and  that  Queen  Blanche  often  embraced  him  with  devo- 
tion, seeking  on  his  fair  forehead  the  traces  of  the  fund  i(iss<s 
blR  noble  mother  had  impressed  there.  It  was  thus  that  ihc 
mother  of  a  saint  did  homage  to  the  son  of  a  saint ;  it  wtui 
in  these  touching  and  pious  kisses  that  were  associated  in 
history  and  in  the  memory  of  men,  as  they  were  incessautlj 
united  before  Ood,  the  tender,  fervent,  and  pure  souls  ot 
Bftiut  Loiiif  ti  Vnaoe  and  Si.  BUiabeUi  of  Hungary. 


V. 


i 


Lkl,,     I 


Of  iDiroAir. 


819 


ii 


CHAPTER  XXyilL 


low  TBI  LORD  BXIIIC1SBD  BU  POW«R  AND  Bit  MBBOT  AT  TBI 
IllTBRCBSSIOM  Of  TBB  DBAK  SAINT  BLIZABRB,  AMD  Of  TOB 
MABTBLLOUS  BmOAOT  Of  BKB  PBATBRS. 


I 


••  Fadt  mlhl  aii«M  ^ul  potaM  Mt**— A  tMk4  L  4f . 

*T*liuitetMn  tloMntlwD  m  teotot,  ct  d>pwwrtlooiin  Mnun  WMdH.** 

J*$,9Mhf.  n, 

The  time  was  spproftching  when  Elizabeth  shoald  be  sum 
moiled  to  receive  from  her  Heavenly  Father,  the  eternal  recom 
|)en8e  of  the  trials  of  her  short  life  ;  bat  before  calling  her  to 
sliare  in  His  glory,  it  pleased  the  Almighty  to  sarronnd  the 
remainder  of  her  days  with  a  halo  of  majesty,  to  invest  her  in 
the  eyes,  even  of  those  who  had  persecuted  and  calumniated 
her,  with  a  power  emanating  Arom  His  own,  and  to  commit  to 
this  weak  woman,  who  had  so  nobly  vanqnished  the  failings  of 
our  fallen  natore,  the  supernatural  strength  to  conquer  in, 
and  to  exterminate  from  her  brethren  all  the  miseries  which 
are  the  result  of  sin. 

It  will  be  no  longer  by  her  deep  compassion,  by  her  affeo- 
tionate  sympathy,  by  her  boundless  generosity,  by  her  aii> 
wearied  devotion  alone,  that  we  shall  see  her  occupied  in 
solacing  the  woes  of  the  unhappy,  and  in  bearing  with  thea 
their  burthens ;  the  Divine  Charity  to  which  nothing  is  ini* 
possible  and  which  was  identified  with  her  life,  thenceforward 
received  an  impulse  so  great,  that  one  word,  or  one  prayer 
from  her  lips  sufficed  to  dissipate  and  drive  away  for  ever  tto 
Bufferings  which  before  she  could  but  strive  to  heal. 

Thenceforth  when  devotion  or  charity  summoned  her  from 
her  miserable  dwelling,  it  was  to  exercise,  no^  only  tht 


r 


'J' 


If^ 


320 


LIFE    OF    BT.     BLIZABETR, 


M  1 


!:' 


promptin<58  of  her  own  kindliness,  but  also  the  miramlom 
power  whifth  the  Lord  is  often  pleased  to  confer  on  His  chosen 
Fouls  ;  and  the  new  blessings  which  she  obtained  for  her  poor 
ones,  preserved  by  their  memories  even  in  the  least  details, 
with  the  most  aflFecting  particularity,  afford  to  us  the  lutosl 
and  most  brilliant  testimony  of  her  sanctity. 

No  day  passed  that  she  did  not  go  twice  to  visit  her  ho8 
pital  patients,  and  bring  to  them  all  that  was  necessary  foi 
their  maintenance  and  comfort.  One  morning  when  she 
arrived  at  this  hospital,  she  saw  on  the  threshold  of  its  door, 
a  lame  and  deformed  boy  lying  motionless.  He  was  d.  poor, 
deaf  and  dumb  child,  whose  limbs  were  all  distorted  l)y  a 
painful  malady,  so  that  he  could  only  drag  himself  along  on 
his  hands  and  feet  like  an  unclean  animal.  His  mother,  who 
was  ashamed  of  his  appearance,  had  brought  him  to  that  place 
and  left  him  there  in  the  hope  that  the  good  Duchess  would 
have  compassion  on  him. 

Indeed  when  Elizabeth  came  up  she  looked  upon  him  with 
anxious  pity,  and  bending  gently  over  him  she  said  :  "  Tell 
me,  dear  child,  where  are  thy  parents  ?  who  brought  thee 
hither  ?"  But  as  the  boy  did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  she 
repeated  the  question  in  a  clear,  sweet-toned  voice,  and  caress 
ing  him  added,  "  From  what  dost  thou  suffer  ?  wilt  thou  not 
speak  ?"  The  child  looked  at  her  without  answering ;  Eliza- 
beth not  knowing  that  he  was  dumb,  imagined  that  he  was 
possessed  by  some  demon,  and  feeling  her  pity  for  him  in- 
crease, she  said  in  a  loud  voice,  **  In  the  name  of  our  Lord  I 
command  thee,  and  him  that  is  in  thee,  to  reply,  and  to  tell 
ine  whence  thou  camest." 

At  that  moment  the  child  stood  erect  before  her — speech 
was  given  to  him  and  he  said,  "It  was  my  mother  who 
brought  me."  He  then  related  to  her  how  he  had  never 
beard  nor  spoken  before,  that  from  his  birth  he  had  been  aa 
Ibe  found  him,  feeble  and  deformed  in  all  his  body.    "  But 


OF    ilUNOAKT. 


8^ 


BOW ,"  g^d  he,  extending  YAb  limbs  one  nfter  the  other,  "  be- 
hoiil  God  has  given  me  motion,  and  speech,  and  hearing,  and 
I  Shy  words  that  I  never  learned  from  any  one."  Tlien  he 
w(pt  and  thanked  God.  "  I  knew  not  God.''  he  continued, 
"for  all  my  senses  were  dead,  I  knew  not  what  man  iias. 
Imt  now  I  feel  that  I  am  no  longer  like  a  beast.  I  can  speak 
of  God.  Blessed  bo  the  words  of  yonr  mouth,  that  obtained 
for  me  the  grace  of  not  dying  in  the  state  wherein  I  have 
hitherto  lived.''  At  these  expressions  of  the  feelings  of  a  soul 
Dpwly  awakened  by  Omnipotent  power  to  a  knowledge  of  God 
and  of  itself,  Elizabeth  knew  what  it  had  pleased  the  Almighty 
to  f»errait  her  to  work,  but  alarmed  and  troubled  by  this  won- 
dt  rful  ministry,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  mingled  her  tears 
with  those  of  the  child  she  had  saved.  After  having  blessed 
God  for  the  favour,  she  said  to  him,  "  Return  now  to  thy 
parents,  and  tell  not  what  has  happened  to  thee  ;  above  all 
things,  speak  not  of  me  to  any  one.  Say  that  God's  mercy 
RS-sisted  thee.  Guard  thyself  by  night  and  by  day  from  mor- 
tal sin,  otherwise  thou  mayest  relapse  into  thy  former  state. 
Remember  what  thou  hast  suffered  ere  this,  and  pray  for  me 
as  I  will  ever  pray  for  thee."  Then  she  went  away  to  escape 
tlic  praise  of  this  miracle,  but  the  mother  of  the  boy  came  up 
at  the  moment,  and  seeing  her  child  standing  and  speaking, 
she  was  amazed  and  cried  out,  "  Who  has  given  thee  speech  ?" 
the  boy  replied,  "A  beautiful  lady  in  a  gray  robe  commanded 
me  to  speak  to  her  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  words 
wore  granted  to  me  to  reply."  Whereupon  the  mother  ran  in 
the  direction  that  Elizabeth  had  taken,  and  seeing  her  passing 
oil  quickly  she  recognised  her,  and  everywhere  published  this 
miracle. 

Thus,  notwithstanding  the  modesty  of  Elizabeth,  the  report 

of  the  power  wherewith  God  had  endowed  her  was  propagated 

to  a  great  distance,  and  crowds  of  the  unfortunate  and  saffe^ 

tug  came  to  Invoke  her  assistance.     Her  compassion  efei 

14» 


I 


.a,. 


LIFE    or    8T.     BLIZABETR, 


{.'i 


i     , 

'f  I  :■ 

1  ^  ■ 

1    ! 

i4i^     'dii 

prevented  her  from  refusing  to  accede  to  their  request!^,  bat 
never  did  the  magiiitade  of  the  wonders  which  the  Aiiuii/liti 
permitted  her  to  work,  indace  her  for  a  moment  to  go  astnij 
from  the  profound  and  fervent  humility  which  rendenil  her 
so  agreeable  to  Him.  Pne  day  a  sick  man  asked  her  to  liciil 
him  in  the  name  of  the  beloved  Apostle  St.  John,  for  wliom 
the  felt  a  special  devotion  ;  after  she  prayed  for  him  he  foil 
cured,  and  lie  threw  himself  before  her  to  thank  her  ;•  but  sho, 
kneeling  down,  blessed  Qod,  for  that  He  had  deigned  to  grant 
her  request  through  the  intercession  of  His  dear  Apostle  St 
John,  though,  says  the  writer  from  whom  we  take  this  narra- 
tive, "  God  listened  to  her  prayers  as  well  as  He  did  to  tliose 
of  St.  John." 

Another  day,  a  poor  creature  whose  hands  and  feet  were 
paralysed,  cried  out,  "  Oh  woman,  bright  as  the  sun  amon^rst 
thy  sex,  I  come  from  Reynhartsbrunn  where  thy  !«nsl)and 
reposes — by  thy  love  for  his  soul  come  and  heal  me."  On 
hearing  the  name  of  her  husband  she  remembered  their  lioly 
and  happy  life  ;  she  stopped  and  looked  with  infinite  tender- 
ness upon  him  who  invoked  her  thus,  and  by  that  gentle 
glance  alone  the  paralytic  was  cared,  and  for  this  she 
fervently  thanked  the  Lord.  Sometime  after,  as  she  wai 
walking'  \o  the  Convent  of  Aldenburg,  a  poor  man  called 
after  her,  saying,  "  Behold  for  twelve  years  I  have  been  the 
prey  of  a  wicked  f  pirit — let  me  but  touch  the  hem  of  thy 
garment,  and  he  nrust  leave  me.**  She  rettirned  immediately, 
and  kneeling  by  the  wayside  she  embraced  and  blessed  him  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  at  that  moment  the  possessed 
one  was  delivered  from  his  tormentor. 

On  another  occasion,  having  gone  to  the  church  which  she 
had  erected  near  her  hospital,  about  noon — whieh  was  the 
hour  she  preferred,  as  the  people  were  generally  at  dinner,  and 
•he  could  then  indnlge  her  devotion  uninterruptedly — she  saw 
*  blind  man  walking  alone  around  the  church ;  hi^  eyelldi 


OF    HUNOA^T. 


821 


iN«c  opbD,  but  the  eyeballs  were  withered  and  the  sight 
bnil  departed  from  them.  She  went  and  asked  him  why  b« 
Uh.O'  thu«  wandering  alone  about  the  church.  He  replied,*'] 
would  wish  to  go  to  the  dear  lady  who  comforts  tlie  poor,  i 
the  hope  that  ihe  would  give  me  some  assistance  for  Ood^ 
lake  ;  bat  first  I  oame  to  say  a  prayer  in  tliis  church,  and  I 
am  now  going  round  it  to  feel  how  long  and  how  wide  it  is, 
8s  my  ^yes  cannot  see  it."  *'And  wouldst  thou  like  to  behold 
the  church  f*  asked  the  compassionate  Elizabeth.  "  If  it  waa 
God's  will,^  replied  the  blind  man,  "  I  would  indeed  be  glad 
to  look  upon  it,  bat  as  I  was  born*  blind  I  have  never  seen 
the  sunlight,  so  I  have  been  GikIs  prisoner.**  Then  he  began 
to  tell  her  of  all  his  misery  '*  I  woald  have  been  glad  to 
labour  like  other  men,''  said  hf ,  "  J^at  I  am  useless  to  myself 
and  to  every  one  else  ;  the  honnn,  so  short  to  others,  appear 
to  me  to  be  long  and  weary  ;  whtn  I  am  amongst  men  I  can 
hardly  avoid  the  sin  of  envy  ;  when  I  am  alone  I  deplore  my 
misfortune,  for  I  cannot  pray  always,  and  even  when  praying 
I  think  upon  it  incessantly."  "It  is  all  for  thy  good  that 
God  has  sent  thee  this  misfortune/'  said  Elizabeth,  "  if  thoa 
hadst  sight  thoa  mightest  have  fallen  into  excesses  and  com- 
mitted many  more  sins  than  thoa  hast  done."  "  No,  no," 
replied  the  blind  man,  "  I  would  have  worked  hard  and  been 
free  from  the  sad  thoaghts  that  possess  me  to-day."  Elizabeth, 
qnite  moved  with  compassion,  then  said  to  him,  "  Pray  that 
God  may  give  thee  light  and  I  will  pray  with  thee."  Then 
vvns  the  man  aware  that  it  was  the  holy  Duchess  Elizabeth 
wlio  spoke  to  him,  and  prostrating  himself  before  her,  he 
cried  oat,  "  Oh  noble  and  merciful  lady,  have  pity  on  me  P 
But  she  enjoined  him  again  to  pray  to  God  with  entire  confi- 
dence, and  kneeling  at  some  distance  she  also  prayed  fervently. 
Immediately  sight  was  given  to  the  poor  man.  and  eyes  of 
heavenly  beauty  were  formed  in  the  hitherto  vacant  orbits 
He  arose,  looked  aboat  him,  and  went  towardf  EUnbttk 


9H 


LIFE    or    ST.    ILIZABETB, 


Mr^ 


»  i 


in  4 


M!' 


**  Madam,**    said  he  to  her,  "  may  God  be  for  tfrwi*  blissse.!;  \ 
ace  well  and  clearly — your  words  are  rerified.'^ 

But  the  pious  princess,  who  always  united  the  pnid*  nt 
care  of  a  Christian  mother  to  her  charity,  said  to  him,  "  Now 
that  sight  is  given  to  thee,  remember  that  thou  art  to  servo 
Qod  and  to  avoid  sin — ^labour,  and  be  an  honest  man,  humlile 
and  loyal  in  all  things.'' 

The  prayers  of  this  servant  of  the  Lord,  so  powerful  in 
amnaging  the  sufferings  of  the  body,  were  not  the  le&s  effi- 
cacious in  promoting  the  salvation  of  sools. 

Madam  Gertrude  de  Leinbacb,  the  wife  of  a  noble  knight 
in  the  neighbourhood,  came  one  day  to  visit  ^the  Dudtess, 
and  brought  with  her  her  son,  named  Berthold,  a  yoiitli  of 
abont  twelve  or  fourteen  years  Old,  who  was  magnificently 
clad,  and  who  appeared  to  take  great  pride  and  pleasure  in 
tiie  elegance  of  his  attire.  Elizabeth,  after  conversing  a 
icng  time  with  his  mother,  turned  and  said  to  him,  *'  ^[y 
dear  child,  thou  art,  in  my  mind,  too  richly  clad  ;  thou  art 
too  anxious  to  serve  the  world,  and  from  this  thou  wilt  not 
derive  any  benefit,  either  to  thy  soul  or  body.  Why  wjlt 
tuon  not  think  rather  of  serving  thy  Creator  ?  Tell  me,  dear 
one,  dost  thou  think  that  thy  Saviour  and  mine  wore  suet 
clothes  when  he  came  in  all  humility  to  shed  his  blood  for  us  V 
The  boy  replied — "  Oh  !  dear  lady,  I  beg  of  thee  to  ask  the 
Lord  to  give  me  grace  to  serve  him."  "  Dost  thou  wish 
truly,  that  I  should  pray  for  theeT  asked  the  Duchess 
"  Yes  I  do,  indeed,"  said  Bsrtheld.  "  Then  dispose  thysell 
to  recei>'e  the  grace  thoa  seekest,"  said  Elixabeth — "  I  will 
cheerfully  pray  for  thee  ;  let  us  go  together  to  the  Chnnri, 
•nd  both  unite  in  supplication."  He  followed  her,  and, 
when  arrived,  he  prostrated  himself  before  the  Altw,  ai  did 
also  his  motht^r,  at  some  distance  from  the  place  in  /hicb 
Filizabeth  knelt.  After  their  prayers  bad  lasted  a  i  j-tain 
liiae,  the  youth  cried  oatr— "  Oh,  dear  lady,  cease,  1  pra| 


Of    BUMeARr* 


tbec  !"  Still  Elizabeth  heeded  not,  bat  continofld  most  fer» 
reiitly.  Again  Berthold  cried  oat  more  loadlj*  "Ceaee^ 
BiadaiCf  1  con  endcro  it  no  longer  ;  mjr  body  is  ail  iDflanicd.** 
And  indeed  he  seeined  all  burning — a  vapo&r  exhaled  froui 
bis  body  ;  his  mother  and  two  of  tlie  attendants  ran  towards 
biin,  and  found  hia  garraeuts  saturated  with  perspiration,  and 
his  sliin  so  hot  that  they  coaid  scarcely  touch  him.  EIiz»> 
betli  was  still  praying,  until  the  boy  cried  out  in  desperation, 
"  III  the  name  of  the  Lord,  I  ooi\jure  thee  to  pray  no  more  ; 
for  I  am  consumed  by  an  interior  fire,  and  my  heart  is  ready 
to  break.*'  Then  she  discontinued,  and  Berthold  gradually 
regained  his  former  state — with  this  diflbrcnce,  however, 
(hat  his  heart  never  lost  the  flame  of  Dirine  Love  which  the 
prayers  of  Elizabeth  had  caused  to  be  enkindled  in  it,  and^ 
800U  after,  ne  entered  the  Order  of  Saint  Francis. 

Such  examples  soon  brought  to  Elizabeth  a  crowd  of  8uf« 
fcring  sonls,  seeking  her  powerful  intercessraa.  She  acceded 
witli  pious  hamillty  to  thdr  requests,  and  many  of  them, 
enlightened  ond  tranquillized  by  her  {nraydrs,  like  the  young 
Berthold,  embraced  the  religions  life.  This  sweet  and  bene* 
Tolent  influence  extended  eten  beyond  this  world.  Thitf 
efiicacions  assistance  was  sought  by  some  departed  soal^ 
the  had  not  yet  expiated  all  their  faults. 

Otie  night,  she  saw,  in  a  dream,  her  mother,  Qoeen  Oer« 
trade,  who  had  b^en  cruelly  assassinated  many  years  before } 
Biie  appeared  to  kneel,  tind  to  say,  "My  dear  ehild,  be* 
loved  of  God,  wilt  thou  pray  fbr  me,  for  I  baVe  still  tat 
expiate  SOme  of  the  transg^essiohs  I  committed  dbring  Itfe^ 
Be  mindful  of  the  pains  I  endured  when  I  broBgkt  thee  ilitd 
the  world,  alid  have  piiy  on  my  present  snilerings.  Beg  of 
Qod  to  shorten  the  time  of  my  pani^meat,  and  to  loo!» 
rather  upon  the  ignominious  death  wUcb  I  stiffered,  though 
iunocent,  than  apoo  my  sins.  TMs  tb«a  eaast  do  if  thoa 
rat,  for  f taoQ  art  fall  6f  graoe  io  Ilis  eyes.''   Elikabeth  awok# 


tin  o*    (*.   KLiXABinii, 


.^  >r 


■j.|:   i 


{] 


S 


ii 


weeping.  She  arose  from  her  bed,  and  knelt  down.  Afl<>r 
prayin<^  for  some  time  for  the  repose  of  her  mother's  mn], 
the  again  lay  down  and  slept.  Her  mother  appeared  a  second 
time»  and  said  to  her,  '*  Blessed  be  the  day  and  the  hour 
that  I  brought  thee  forth  1  Thy  prayer  has  delivered  ine  • 
to-morrow  I  shall  enter  into  eternal  glory.  But  ever  pray 
for  all  thou  lovest,  for  Qod  will  comfort  those  who  invoke 
thee  in  their  afflictions."  Elizabeth  awoke  again,  and  shed 
tears  of  heart-felt  joy.  Again  she  slumbered,  through  fa- 
tigue, and  did  not  hear  the  bell  toll  for  Matins  at  the  Oiiiirch 
of  the  Friar  Minors,  whither  she  was  a^^customed  to  go.  She 
did  not  awake  until  the  hour  of  Prime,  when  she  arose,  went 
to  confess  her  slothfulness,  and  requested  her  director  to  in- 
flict on  her  a  penance  for  this  fault. 

This  voice,  so  efficacious  in  obtaining  the  mercy  of  heaven, 
was  often  equally  so  in  seeking  for  justice  on  earth. 

In  one  of  her  walks,  Elizabeth,  who  was  so  justly  termed 
the  nursing-mother  of  the  poor,  discovered  a  woman  in  the 
pains  of  child-birth.  She  had  her  immediately  conveyed  to 
the  hospital,  and  attended  with  all  possible  care.  She  wished 
to.  stand  sponsor  for  the  infant,  on  which  she  bestowed  her 
own  sweet  name,  Elizabeth.  Every  day  she  Wv^nt  to  visit  the 
mother,  gave  her  her  blessing,  and  brought  whatever  would 
be  necessary  for  her  comfort.  After  having  kept  her  for  a 
month,  until  she  was  entirely  recovered,  the  Duchess  gave  her 
a  cloak,  and  the  shpes  off  her  own  feet,  together  with  provi- 
sions and  twelve  pieces  of  money;  she  also  wrapped  the  infant 
in  a  furred  mantle,  which  she  took  off  one  of  her  attendants. 
But  the  unnatural  mother,  far  from  being  affected  by  such 
generosity,  only  speculated  on  its  prolongation.  After  having 
taken  leave  of  the  Duchess  in  the  evening,  she  stifled  all  the 
instincts  of  maternal  love,  and  went  away  at  a  very  early 
hour,  thus  abandoning  her  child.  Meanwbile,  Elizabeth, 
whose  thoughts  were  with  the  poor  by  day  and  by  night,  said 


OF    BUKOABT. 


S27 


I 

to  >nc  of  her  maidens,  jast  aa  they  were  entering  the  charch 
for  matins,  "  I  have  some  money  in  my  pnrse  ;  go  thou  with 
it  to  that  poor  woman ;  it  may  be  of  som^  ase  to  her  and  her 
bal)c.^     But  tliti  girl  reiarned,  annonncing  that  the  woman 
was  gone,  and  had  left  her  infant.    "  Rnn  and  bring  the  little 
9nc  to  me,''  said  the  good  Elizabeth,  "  that  it  may  not  be 
ne«?leeted."    Full  though  her  heart  was  of  mercy,  yet  well 
dia  sh<^  know  what  were  the  rights  of  justice  ;  so  she  sent  for 
tiie  judge  of  the  city,  and  ordered  him  to  send  out  soldiers  to 
the  different  roads  leading  from  the  town,  to  seek  out  tUe 
guilty  mother.     They  returned  without  success ;  then  Eliza> 
bcth  went  to  pray,  and  one  of  her  maidens,  who  dreaded  the 
wrath  of  Conrad  when  he  should  have  heard  l^^e  story,  told 
her  mistress  to  pray  that  the  ungrateful  woman  should  be 
discovered.    Elizabeth  replied  thus  to  this  suggestion  : — "  I 
Know  not  how  to  ask  any  thing  of  God,  but  that  His  will  be 
done  in  all  things/'     In  a  little  time  they  perceived  the  hus- 
band and  wife,  who  came  and  threw  themselves  at  the  feet  of 
the  Duchess,  supplicating  for  pardon  of  their  fault ;  at  the 
same  time,  they  declared  that  they  had  found  their  flight 
impeded  by  an  invisible  force,  which  absolutely  prevented 
their  going  forward,  but  which  impelled  them  to  return  to 
the  city.     No  one  doubted  l)ut  that  this  was  the  effect  of 
the  prayers  of  the  Duchess.    The  attendants  took  from  the 
anp^rateful  woman  all  that  had  been  previously  given  to  her, 
and  distributed  it  amongst  poor  people  who  were  more  deserv- 
ing.    But   Elizabeth,  in  whose  heart  compassion  quickly 
regained  the  empire,  gave  her  another  pair  of  shoes  and  a 
cloak  to  cover  her. 

Notwithstanding  so  many  proofs  of  her  power  with  God, 
her  extreme  humility  sometimes  assumed  the  appearance  of  a 
kind  of  diffidence  in  God's  mercy. 

She  occasionally  experienced  moments  of  discouragement 
and  interior  darkness,  such  as  are  sometimes  felt  by  sobls  the 


i.     -',V      'it 


828 


LIPS    Pf    «T.    lELIHABITR, 


•M  '  ^' 


'it  P 


most  adrnnccd  in  the  ways  loading  to  heaven,  when  thry  heiKjl 
under  the  burthen  of  this  mortal  life  ;  an<|  then  her  liiartj 
always  inflamed  with  loFe,  would  doubt  if  glie  could  fmd  \A 
Qod  a  love  proportionate  to  that  she  had  centred  opoQ 
]Iim. 

Her  former  confiessor,  Father  Rodinger  of  Wurtzhinj;, 
canib  to  visit  her,  aud,  accom{)anied  by  three  of  her  mai(Unf>, 
Bilk  went  to  walk  with  him  on  the  banks  of  the  Lahn  ;  in  her  i 
conversatiQn  with  this  old  friend,  of  whom  she  was  undoubt 
tiqly  less  afraid  than  of  Conrad,  she  said  to  him—"  Reverend 
Father,  there  is  one  thing  that  torments  me  more  than  anj 
ether ;  and  that  is,  that  I  fear  my  Creator  has  but  little 
atteetion  for  me.     Not  but  that  He  is  infinitely  good  aud 
always  pnidigal  of  his  love,  but  ou  iiccoant  of  my  muoy 
faults,  that  keep  me  far  away,  whilst  my  heart  is  inflamed 
with  love  for  5im."    "  There  is  nothing  to  fear  in  that,"  said 
the  good  Friar — "  for  the  Divine  mercy  is  so  great,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  think  but  that  God  loves  infinitely  more  those 
who  love  Him,  than  He  is  beloved  by  them."     "  How,  then, 
is  it,"  said  Elizabeth,  '*  that  He  permits  sadness  or  languor 
of  soul  to  remove  me  from  Him,  to  whom  F  would  wish  every- 
where and  always  to  be  united  ?"    The  Religious  remarked 
that  these  were  the  marks  of  an  e}ect  soul,  aod  not  of  an 
Bfbandoned  one,  and  the  sure  means  of  acqoiring  an  increase 
of  Divine  love  ;  then  he  pointed  her  attention  to  a  tree 
growing  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and  said  tliat 
God  would  more  surely  permit  that  tree  to  com^  by  itself 
across  the  river^  than  that  she  should  fipr  i^  moment  think 
that  His  love  did  not  infinitely  surpass  thnt  Jf  9^J  of  Hia 
creatures  for  him. 

No  sooner  had  he  spoken  these  words,  than  the  wonde^ 
stricken  group  saw  the  tree  crossing  the  riv^  and  ipiplanting 
itself  on  the  shore  where  they  were  walking.  At  this  miracu* 
loqs  testimpnj  of  Pivine  love,  Elizabeth  recpfnlpe^  th9  power 


OF    HUNG  ART. 


8^ 


ind  eternal  truth  of  Him  who  said  to  his  disdpf^S,  '*  If  toil 
bad  faith  like  to  a  grain  of  mostard-seed,  you  miii^ht  any  t6 
this  mulberry  tree,  Be  thou  rooteo  up,  and  be  thon  tram* 
planted  into  the  sea  :  and  it  woniu  obey  you.''-  -Saint  Tiukft, 
XYii.  6  And  she  knelt  at  the  feet  of  Father  Rodingcr,  to 
ronfi'Si  the  sin  of  difitrnst  in  God's  mercy,  md  to  obtain  Mi 
pardon. 

To  give  to  her  prayers  the  wonderful  power  iAikh  we  haT6 
Kon  in  their  effects,  Elizabeth  bad  do  other  means  than  the 
perpetual  exercise  of  this  gpreat  faculty;  and  notwithstanding 
the  number  and  fatiguing  nature  of  the  works  of  mercy  in 
which  sha  was  continually  engaged,  and  which,  one  wouldf 
think,  were  sufficient  to  occupy  all  her  time,  yet  she  devoted 
many  hours  daily  to  prayer  and  meditation.  With  a  rare" 
happiness,  she  united  in  her  person  the  lictire  and  contemn 
piative  lives. 

After  having,  lik6  Martha,  pi*ovided  with  the  greatest 
care  for  the  wants  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  the  persons  of  his  poor, 
she  used  to  go,  like  Mary,  to  the  feet  of  her  Saviour,  and 
there  forgiet  this  worW  in  the  recollection  of  his  graces  and 
mercies.  "  Before  God,  I  declare  that  I  have  rarely  seen  a 
more  contemplative  woman*,"  ^rote  her  severe  confessor  tol 
the  Pope.  She  often  remained  fbir  hours  at  prayer,  with  her 
heart,  her  eyes^  her  hands,  lifted  to  h^nVeini.  It  waii  also  het 
custom  to  spend  many  hours  of  the  night  in  the  church,  not- 
withstanding the  prohibitions  of  Conrad,  who  did  not  wish 
that  she  should  deprive  herself  of  necessary  repOtte.  As  she 
eometimes  did  not  fSeel  sufficiently  a1oti&  or  nnlobs^rved  in  the 
ch«rche&  of  Marburg,  she  loved  to  pray  ih  tlie  fields,  nndef 
heaven's  canopy,  surrounded  by  that  nature  which  in  all  itt 
beauts  reminded  her  of  the  greatness  and  cli^Uiency  of  fhef 
Creator.  Tradition  informs  us,  that,  when  praying  thus  \tt 
the  open  air,  when,  it  rained,  she  alone  was  not  wet.  He^ 
favourite  refuge  was  near  a  clear  fountain,  in  a  wood,  at  thr 


8S0 


Liri     or    ST.     FLIIARKTR, 


ii' 


m 


foot  of  a  rajfgcd  bill,  at  a  little  dlKtanrc  from  Sclirrp>  k.  two 
IcagaoR  from   Marburpf.      Thi;  road   to   it  was  8tr«  p  an^ 
dangerous;  she  had  a  paved  pathway  ma'le  there,  and  < n  <  tt<l 
near  the  spring  a  little  chapel.     Soon  thin  solitary  spot  n^ 
oeived  the  name  of  Eltzaheth's  Fountain,  which  it  pn s* rvi<) 
to  this  day.    The  worst  weather  could  not  hinder  her  frf)ni 
▼isiting  this  beloved   retreat.      She   always  prayed  wViNt 
walking ;   hnt  coming  hither  from  Marburg,    she  used  to 
recite  bflt  one  Pater,  so  mingled  was  her  prayer  with  re- 
flection and  contemplation.     Elizabeth  always  assisted  witli 
exemplary  devotion  and  exactitude  at  all  the  Divine  Officps 
She  entertained  for  the  Saints  of  God  an  affectionate  rever- 
ence ;  she  listened  to  the  histories  of  their  lives  with  the 
deepest  interest  ;  she  scrupulously  observed  their  festivals, 
and  regarded  their  precious  relics  with  great  veneration,  nnd 
continually  lighted  tapers  and  burned  incense  before  their 
alirincs.     After  her  special  friend,  St.  John  the  Evanj?elist, 
It  was  for  St.  Mary  Magdalene  that  she  professed  the  greatest 
devotion.    The  Holy  Virgin  was  naturally  the  object  of  her 
fervent  love ;  she  always  carried  about  her  four  images  of 
this  Queen  of  Heaven,  which  she  preserved  until  her  death, 
and   which  she  then  bequeathed  to  her  eldest  daugliter, 
Sophia.    Yet  she  was  far  from  attaching  undue  importance 
to  these  exterior  signs  of  devotion,  and  she  knew  perfectly 
how  to  distinguish  between  their  mere  material  value  and  the 
pore  one  which  faith  assigns  them.     Thus,  she  was  one  day 
visiting  a  monastery,  and  about  twenty-four  of  the  monies 
a/Kembled  to  show  her,  with  a  certain  degree  of  complaisance, 
tome  richly-gilt  carvings  that  adorned  their  church.    She  said 
to  them—  *'  Indeed  it  would  have  been  better  to  keep  \he 
npQQgjr  that  these  cost  you  for  your  food  and  clothing,  for  the 
subjects  here  represented  should  be  engraven  )n  your  hearts." 
6he  was  not  less  severe  to  herself,  for  as  a  p  irson  was  speak- 
log  to  her  of  the  beauty  of  a  picture,  and  striving  to  induce 


Of    111*  50  ART. 


831 


lor  to  parchase  it,  she  said,  "  I  do  not  want  that  picture,  for 
I  feel  the  subject  of  it  in  my  soul.*' 

Tho  same  feeling  predominated  in  the  mind  of  one  of  her 
Qiost  illustrious  contem|)orarie8,  though  of  a  very  differeni 
itiimp  of  character  from  iierself, — Simon,  Count  de  Mont- 
fort,  of  whom  St.  Louis  related  with  admiration  the  follow- 
iiiy:  anecdote  to  Joinville :  that  when  a  person  came  to  tell 
liiin,  "  that  he  had  just  seen  the  body  of  our  Saviour,  that 
the  host  had  become  flesh  and  blood  in  the  hands  of  a 
priest,  and  at  which  those  present  wore  much  astonished," 
till!  Count  said  to  him — "  Go  to,  you  who  doubt ;  as  for  me, 
I  believe  it  implicitly,  and  I  hope  for  thus  belieying  to  re^ 
ceive  a  brighter  crown  in  Paradise,  than  that  the  angeM 
wear,  because  they,  seeing  Qod's  wonders  face  to  face,  most 
believe  them." 

God's  image  was  surely  too  deeply  engraven  in  Elizabeth'^ 
heart,  too  frequently  present  to  her  love,  for  her  to  require 
ttie  assistant  3  which  the  Church  offers  with  generous  compas^ 
Bion  to  common  souls.  Ravished  in  incessant  contemplation} 
even  into  the  very  presence  of  the  Divinity  and  His  mosi 
august  mysteries,  she  needed  not  the  imperfect  figures  thai 
the  human  imagination  could  form  of  them.  According  a^ 
she  approached  the  end  of  her  career,  her  prayers  became 
more  frequently  transformed  into  ecstasies ;  and  these  won^ 
derful  interruptions  of  her  ordinary  life  increased,  as  if  td 
))repare  her  gently  for  the  passage  to  eternity.  In  a  little 
time  no  day  passed  that  she  quitted  not  this  world  of  grief 
and  weariness,  to  enjoy  a  foretaste  of  the  bliss  of  heaven: 
The  number  of  revelations,  of  visions,  and  of  supernatural 
communications,  was  very  great  ;  and  though  she  endeaiS 
voured  to  conceal  these  wonderful  favours,  they  could  noi 
pass  unnoticed  by  those  who  lived  with  her  ;  her  joy  and 
irratitude  often  betrayed  her,  and  the  occurrence  of  thesd 
visioDS  was  looked  upon  by  her  contemporaries  as  inconteit^ 


LIFE     0?    IT.     BLIIADETH, 


Hile  fkctp.  The  biij^Ih  m»rc  the  uiutil  mcMciiffprfl  from  ht.-v 
▼en  to  this  prtnlestiiieU  «oul  ;  not  only  did  thi?y  convey  to  lur 
WBrningfl  and  celestial  liiMtructions,  but  they  iilso  cati).  tr. 
console  her  in  the  trials  and  accidents  of  thin  (wshin^  lifr. 

To  relate  one  inntance,  from  ainon^Kt  many  others,  Kll/^ 
fietli  brought  to  her  house  a  poor  woman  who  was  si(  k  ;  on 
her  the  tenderest  cnrc  was  lavished  ;  she  recovere<l  nml  touic 
to  flight  one  morning  at  a  very  early  hour,  carrying,'  awuy 
with  her  all  the  clothes  belonging  to  her  lienefactrcss— who 
now,  not  having  wherewith  to  cover  herself,  was  obiijrtMJ  t<( 
remain  in  bed  ;  but  fur  from  becoming  impatient  or  (ii>'  .m- 
tented,  she  said,  "  My  dear  Lord,  I  thank  you  for  having,' 
thus  permitted  me  to  resemble  you.  Naked  you  came  into 
the  world,  and  naked  did  yon  0\e,  nailed  to  the  cross"— nnd 
immediately,  as  when  she  had  formerly  given  all  her  raiimiit 
to  the  poor,  she  saw  an  angel  coming  with  a  fair  gariiuMit, 
which  he  gave  to  her,  saying,  "  I  do  not  now  bring  thee  n 
crown  as  I  did  in  other  times,  for  God  himself  will  soon  bestow 
on  thee  the  crown  of  glory." 

But  often,  also,  the  Divine  Spouse  of  her  soul,  the  Master 
of  her  life,  Jesus  himself,  appeared  to  her,  accompanied  bv  a 
multitude  of  saints.  He  consoled  her  by  his  gentle  words. 
ahd  fortified  her  by  his  presence.  After  these  celestial 
visions,  her  face,  according  to  the  grave  Conrad,  beamed 
with  a  marvellous  brightne^i — a  reflection  of  the  Divine 
uplendonr  which  had  shone  upon  her,  and  from  her  beautiful 
eyes  proceeded  rays  like  those  of  the  sun.  Those  only  who 
were  free  ft'om  the  *iiiim  of  mortal  sin,  could  look  at  her 
without  being  daasM  If  she  continued  long  in  the  state  of 
ecstasy,  she  aeqnireti  such  strength  that  ahe  had  not  any  need 
of  even  the  most  trfiai«»  nourishment  lor  a  long  space  of 
time.  This  spiritual  %od  sufficed  for  the  sustenance  of  h«»r 
Iwdy.  For  the  rema.jdcr  of  the  day,  she  lived  only  in  Hiai, 
h  whose  lovA  she  was  all  absorbed  ;  the  onljr  words  she  could 


•f  avRaAMT. 


oup  to  exprop^  hor  fet'linjr»  on  these  orcnsionn,  mere  the  fol- 
lowing, from  the  Snered  Text,  "My  soul  fainted  away  wheo 
my  licjovwi  spoke  onto  me.** 

Thus  wfts  realized  the  prophetic  instinct  which  hnd  Im- 
pollt'd  her  in  her  cbildhood  to  choose  for  pntron,  friend  and 
fii'MJel  the  blessed  Evangelist  who  had  received  the  Privilege 
of  Love,  and  who,  when  re|)08ing  on  the  bosom  of  hit 
Saviour,  had  read  there  all  the  secrets  of  heaven.  A  divine 
radiance  was  then  abed  over  her  life,  which  illumined  her 
whole  beingf.  No  trial,  no  tribulation,  could  disturb  h«r 
^•'iitle  sweetneas  ;  never  was  she  troubled  or  irritated ;  on 
tli<>  contrary,  she  appeared  even  gayer  in  her  sorrows. 

Those  who  were  most  intimate  with  her  never  saw  upon 
her  countenance  an  expression  of  discontent ;  yet  she  wept 
iiici'ssantly,  and  the  holy  gift  of  tears  which  she  had  received 
ill  her  early  days  became  more  plenteous  according  as  she 
ii|i|troached  the  tomb.  The  happier  was  she,  the  more  she 
wept ;  but  ber  tears  flowed  as  from  a  tranquil  and  hidden 
8oiirce,  without  leaving  a  trace  on  ber  features  ;  and  far 
from  in  the  least  degree  disturbing  the  pore  beauty  and  pla- 
cidity of  her  countenance,  they  added  to  it  a  new  charm ; 
tlicy  were  the  expressions  of  a  heart  for  whose  feelingB 
words  were  all  too  weak. 

And  surely,  as  %«  b^^fore  read  of  the  tears  that  human 
love  and  cruel  per^eciktion  had  forced  from  her,  these  tears 
of  supernatural  joy  that  now  flowed  into  the  chalice  of  her 
life,  were  received,  drop  by  drop,  by  her  celestial  Spouse, 
and  became  tli«  pearls  of  that  crown  which  was  placed  on 
ber  fur  brow,  at  her  entrance  to  the  eternal  glory  3f  heaven  t 


t84 


LIFB    or    IT.    BLIIABBTB, 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


BOW   THE    DEAR    ST.    ELIZABETH,    WHEN    AGED    TWFNTT-FOUR    TEABI, 
WAS  SUMMONED   TO  THE  ETERNAL   WEDDING  FEAST. 


t        ! 


**  Jtm  hiems  tranMIt,  lnib«r  abilt  et  reoemlt:  sargc*  mkft  mea,  speciosa  nica,  4 
?«bL    .    .    .    Veiii  siMnsa  mea,  et  oMDnabcris."— Catii.  IL  11, 14 

Two  years  had  scarcely  passed  away,  since  the  humble 
Elizabeth  had  been  clothed  in  the  Habit  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Francis,  and  with  it  had  received  strength  to  despise  all  the 
joys  of  this  world,  and  to  seek  heaven  by  a  path  strewn 
with  thorns ;  and  already  the  Lord  had  deemed  the  trial 
Bnfficiently  long — the  laborious  task  she  had  imposed  on  her- 
self sufficiently  well  fulfilled.  "  He  ordained  that  she  who 
had  given  up  the  kingdom  of  this  world  should  be  received 
into  the  realm  of  the  angels."  Like  the  spouse  in  the  in* 
spired  canticles.  He  came  to  announce  to  his  beloved  one 
that  the  dark  winter  of  her  life,  with  all  its  storms,  had 
passed  away,  and  that  the  dawning  of  an  eternal  spring  was 
about  to  open  for  her.  The  year  1231  was  nigh  expired,— 
the  year  wherein  the  Order  of  St.  Francis  had  resigned  to 
heaven  the  great  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  the  glory  of  Italy 
and  Portugal  ;  and  the  Almighty,  willing  to  increase  the 
number  of  the  Saints,  demanued  from  the  same  order  a  new 
sacrifice,  and  proceeded  to  cull  its  fairest  flower. 

One  night  when  Elizabeth  was  praying,  though  in  a  state 
between  sleeping  and  waking,  Christ  appeared  to  her,  snr* 
roanded  by  a  beauteous  light,  and  said  in  a  sweet  voice,— 
•'  C^me,  Elizabeth,  my  spouse,  my  beloved  one,  come  to  the 
tabernacle  I  have  prepared  for  thee  from  eternity ;  come, 
I  myself  will  conduct  "hce  thither."    On  awaking,  she  wai 


Ml 


OP    BUKOART. 


88ft 


overjojed  and  began  to  make  all  the  preparations  for  thii 
huppy  passage.  She  arranged  all  matters  for  her  burial. 
She  went  for  t^e  last  time  to  visit  her  patients,  and  gave  to 
them  and  to  her  followers  all  that  it  was  in  her  power  to 
hi'stow.  Master  Conrad  was  at  this  time  stricken  with  a 
grievons  malady,  which  caused  him  acute  pain.  He  sent  for 
his  gentle  penitent,  and  she  went  immediately,  faithful  to  the 
last  to  her  mission,  as  the  consolatrix  and  friend  of  tiie  poor 
and  sick.  He  received  her  with  aflfcction,  and  she  grieved  to 
gee  him  suffering  so  much.  Then  said  he  to  her :  "  Whal 
will  become  of  you,  my  lady  and  dear  child,  when  I  am  dead  ? 
How  will  you  regulate  your  life  ?  Who  will  be  your  protector 
againsi  the  wicked,  and  who  will  lead  you  to  God  V  She 
replied  immediately,  "  Your  question  is  a  vain  one,  for  I  will 
die  before  you  ;  believe  me,  I  shall  not  have  need  of  another 
protector." 

On  the  fourth  day  after  this  conversation  she  was  attackea 
by  the  illness  which  was  to  terminate  the  long  death  of  he? 
terrestrial  existence,  and  to  conduct  her  to  the  only  true  and 
eternal  life. 

She  was  obliged  to  remain  in  bed,  where  for  twelve  or  four- 
teen days,  she  lay  the  victim  of  a  scorching  fever,  still  always 
joyous  and  gay,  and  continually  occupied  in  prayer.  Towardi 
tlie  end  of  this  time,  one  day,  as  she  seemed  to  slumber,  with 
her  face  turned  towards  the  wall,  one  of  her  women^  named 
like  herself,  Elizabeth,  heard  a  sweet  and  exquisite  melody, 
proceeding,  as  it  were,  from  the  throat  of  the  Duchess.  In  a 
moment  after  she  changed  her  position,  and  turning  towardf 
her  attendant,  she  said  :  "  Where  art  thou,  my  beloved  ?" 
"  Behold  me,"  said  the  servant,  adding,  "  0  dear  lady,  how 
clijirmingly  you  have  sung  !"  "  What,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  hast 
fhoM im  U«wd  SWRttWlN^F  fcnA  on  K»ce\Tb^g  her  response  in 
the  jiffirmative,  t!ie  invalid  resumed,  "  I  will  tell  thee  how  a 
littfe  bird  stood  between  nie  and  the  wall,  and  he  sung  to 


LIFE    or    ST.    tLIZABBTB, 


j'-h!:!;;' 


'\\ 


for  a  long  time  so  eweetly  that  my  heart  and  soni  were  ^]iA 
dened,  and  I  was  impelled  to  sing  also.  He  revealed  to  q\« 
that  I  should  die  in  three  days.** 

"  Doubtless,'^  says  an  ancient  narrator,  '*  it  was  her  guar- 
dian angel,  who  came  under  the  form  of  a  little  bird  to  an- 
Doance  the  approach  of  eternal  joy." 

From  this  moment,  having  so  little  time  to  prepare  for 
the  last  great  conflict,  she  did  not  wish  to  see  any  secular 
persons,  not  even  the  noble  ladies  who  were  accustomed  to 
visit  her.  She  bade  all  who  inquired  after  her  farewell,  and 
blessed  them  for  the  last  time.  She  received  only,  besiiles 
her  domestics,  some  religions  women  who  were  .especially 
attaclied  to  her,  her  eonfessor,  and  the  poor  child  who  suc- 
ceeded in  her  care  the  leper  whom  Conrad  had  sent  awa^ . 
When  they  asked  her  why  she  excluded  every  one,  she  sain, 
"  I  wish  to  remain  alone  with  God,  and  to  meditate  on  the 
dreadful  day  of  the  la«t  judgment,  and  on  my  Almighty 
Judge."  Then  she  began  to  weep  and  to  invoke  the  mercy 
of  God. 

On  Sunday,  the  vigil  of  the  octave  of  St.  Martin's  dav, 
after  Matins,  she  confessed  to  Conrad  who  was  suflBciently 
recovered  to  attend  her.  "  She  took  her  heart  into  her  hands, 
and  read  therein  all  that  it  contained,"  says  a  contemporary 
manuscript,  "  but  nought  was  there  for  accusation,  nothin(r 
that  had  not  been  a  thousand  times  washed  away  by  the  most 
sincere  contrition."  Her  confession  concluded,  Conrad  asked 
what  was  her  last  will  with  regard  to  her  wealth  and  posses- 
sions.  "  I  am  astonished,"  said  she,  "  that  yon  should  fmt 
such  a  question  to  me  ;  for  you  know  that  when  I  made  a  vow 
of  obedience  to  you,  I  renounced  all  my  property,  as  well  as 
my  will,  my  beloved  children,  and  all  earthly  pleasures.  I 
retained  no  more  than  was  sufficient  to  pay  debts  and  to  give 
alms.  If  yon  had  granted  permission,  I  would  have  been  glad 
to  give  up  all,  and  to  live  in  a  cell,  snbtisting  on  the  daily 


r*  1 


Of    nUNOART. 


887 


pittance  that  other  poor  ones  vonid  have  bestowed  upon  me. 
For  a  long  time,  all  of  which  I  was  apparently  mistress,  be- 
lonu^ed  in  ideality  to  the  poor.  Distribute  amongst  them  what- 
ever I  ^:^.▼e,  except  this  old  robe  I  now  wear,  and  in  which 
[  wish  to  be  buried.  I  make  no  will,  I  have  no  heir  but 
Jesus  Christ."  But  as  one  of  her  companions  requested  her 
to  leave  her  some  memorial,  she  gave  her  the  old  mantle  of 
her  holy  Father  St.  Francis  which  the  Pope  had  sent  her 
"I  leave  thee  my  mantle,"  said  she,  "heed  not  that  it  is 
patched,  torn  and  miserable — for  it  was  the  most  precious 
treasure  I  ever  possessed.  I  declare  to  thee,  that  whenever 
I  asked  any  special  favour  from  my  beloved  Jesus,  and  that 
[  prayed  covered  with  this  cloak,  He  granted  my  wishes,  al- 
ways with  mfinite  mercy." 

She  then  requested  that  she  should  be  burled  in  the  Church 
of  the  hos-j)'*"^  she  had  founded  and  dedicated  in  honour  of 
St.  Pranci' .  >:  le  had  no  further  care  for  the  buriat  of  her 
body,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  the  anticipation  of  her  souVs 
entrance  into  Heaven.  After  she  had  conversed  a  long  time 
with  Master  Conrad,  and  when  Mass  was  said,  towards  the 
hour  of  Prime  they  administered  to  her  the  last  sacraments, 
which  she  expected  with  a  pious  eagerness.  Who  could  know 
and  judge  with  what  tenderness,  what  purity  of  heart,  what 
ardent  desire,  what  celestial  joy  she  received  this  sweet  repast  I 
Certainly  He  alone  "Who  became  her  guide  and  viaticum  in 
this  last  journey.  But  what  was  manifested  in  her  exterior 
served  to  show  the  attendants  the  presence  of  the  divine  grace 
by  which  she  was  replenished. 

After  having  communicated  and  received  extreme  unction, 
fihe  remained  motionless  and  silent  during  the  entire  day, 
absorbed  in  contemplation,  enraptured  with  that  Banquet  of 
life  of  which  she  had  partaken  for  the  last  time  in  this  world. 
Towards  the  Tesper  hour  her  lips  were  unsealed  to  give  ut- 
terance to  a  torrent  of  pious  and  fervent  aspirations ;  her 
li 


838 


Live    or    ST.     BLIIARBT*, 


;l  i 


■!||^ 


;!!j;>1i 


tongae,  nsaally  so  slow  to  spesk,  proclaimed  her  feelin^.'s  rq 
fervently,  and  with  such  prudence  and  efficacy,  that  tlionc.'h 
she  had  never  spoken  so  much  before,  not  a  single  word  won 
lost. 

Those  present  remarked  that  all  she  had  ever  heard  from 
preaeherr  nr  read  in  devout  books,  or  learned  in  her  (m  sta- 
sies,  canfic  to  her  mind  to  be  imparted  to  her  maidens  before 
her  death.  A  wonderful  fountain  of  eloquence  and  lerirnin;; 
seemed  to  spring  up  in  her  soul  at  the  very  moment  in  which 
it  was  about  to  fly  from  this  world.  In  rememberinp^  ilie 
Holy  Scriptures,  she  selected  the  passages  most  aflfectini^  to 
the  memory  of  a  loving  soul  like  hers.  She  recited  the  wholo 
passage  of  the  Gospel  relating  to  the  raising  of  Lazarus  from 
the  de.'id,  and  spoke  with  wonderful  pathos  of  the  visit  diut 
Jesus  made  to  tlie  blessed  sisters  Martha  and  Mary,  when  He 
deigned  to  sympathise  in  their  grief — when  He  went  with 
them  to  their  brother's  tomb,  ar>d  showed  his  tender  and  sin- 
cere compassion,  in  mingling  with  their  sorrow,  tears  from 
His  diviue  eyes.  Fixing  on  this  idea  she  spoke  most  fervently 
and  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  attendants,  of  those  tears 
of  Christ,  as  well  as  of  those  shed  by  Him  in  contemplatiii!:; 
Jerusalem,  and  while  He  hung  upon  the  Cross  ;  her  words 
were  so  earnest,  so  tender,  so  fitted  to  penetrate  the  heart, 
that  tears  soon  abundantly  flowed  from  the  eyes  of  all  who 
heard  her.  The  expiring  saint  perceived  their  sorrow,  and  as 
if  to  give  them  a  last  warning  she  repeated  the  words  that  our 
Lord  spoke  when  going  to  death,  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
weep  not  over  me,  but  weep  over  yourselves.*'  Her  heart, 
alvrays  so  full  of  compassion  and  sympathy,  though  wingin<r 
its  flight  to  Heaven,  was  still  accessible  to  her  beloved  ones. 
She  again  sought  to  alleviate  the  anguish  of  her  attendants, 
by  addressing  to  them  the  most  affectionate  consolation,  and 
calling  them  thus  :  "  My  friends,  my  beloved  onesj*  And 
tb«D  she  bowed  her  head  and  for  a  long  time  kept  a  coidpleto 


■   i 


12     5 


OF    BUHOAET. 


lilence.  Ia  a  little  time  after,  though  the  bjstanders  saw  no 
motion  of  her  lips,  they  again  heard  a  faint,  sweet  mosic. 
When  thej  qnestioned  her  on  this  subject  she  replied,  "  Fare 
you  not  heard  them  who  chaunted  with  me  ?  I  sung  as  well 
as  I  could  with  them."  "  No  faithful  soul  will  doobt,''  says 
hor  historian,  "  but  that  she  already  united  her  sweet  Toice  * 
(3  the  songs  of  triumph,  and  the  delicious  harmony  of  the 
celestial  choirs  who  expected  the  moment  of  her  entrance  into 
thf'ir  ranks  ;  already  she  magnified  the  praises  of  the  Lord 
with  His  angels.'' 

She  remained  from  the  closing  of  the  day  until  the  first 
eroding  of  the  cock  in  a  state  of  boundless  joy,  of  pious  ex- 
ultation and  fervent  devotion.  At  the  moment  of  victory 
(vith  good  reason  she  celebrated  the  termination  of  her  many 
trials.  Already  sure  of  her  glorious  crown,  she  said  to  hef 
attendants  a  few  minutes  before  midnight :  "  What  shall  wo 
do  if  our  enemy,  the  devil,  should  appear  t"  In  an  instant 
after  she  cried  out  in  a  loud  clear  voice,  "  Fly,  fly,  thoa 
wicked  one,  I  renounce  thee  I"  Then  again  she  said  :  "  He 
goes,  let  us  now  speak  of  God  and  of  His  Son,  it  will  not  fa- 
tigue you — it  will  not  continue  long."  Towards  midnight 
her  face  became  so  radiant  that  they  could  scarcely  look  upon 
her.  At  the  sound  of  the  cockcrow,  she  said  :  "  At  this  hour 
did  the  Virgin  Mary  bring  to  the  world  its  Saviour.  Let  us 
speak  of  God  and  of  the  infant  Jesus,  for  it  is  now  midnight, 
the  hour  in  which  Jesus  was  bom,  and  laid  in  a  manger,  and 
that  He  created  a  new  star,  which  had  never  been  seen  before ; 
at  this  hour  He  came  to  redeem  the  world  ;  He  will  redeem^ 
me  also  ;  at  this  hour  He  arose  from  the  dead,  and  delivered 
the  imprisoned  souls  ;  He  will  also  deliver  mine  from  this 
miserable  world.** 

Her  joy  and  happiness  increased  every  moment.  "  I  am 
weak,"  said  she,  "but  I  feci  no  more  pain  than  if  I  was  not 
ill — 1  recommend  you  all  to  God."    She  spoke  again,  inspired 


I 


m 


LIIB    OV    IT.    ■LIZABBTH, 


'   ■' 


n^  1'- 


ij 


by  the  Holy  Spirit,  bat  her  words,  which  breathed  the  purest 
loTe  of  God,  bave  not  been  particularly  recorded.    At  kngth 
the  said,  "  Oh  Mary«  come  to  my  assistance  t  the  moment  \m 
arrived  when  God  sammons  his  friend  to  the  wedding  feast. 
The  bridegroom  seeks  His  sponse.''    Then  in  a  low  tone  she 
Added,  *'  Silence  I . . . .  Silence  ! . . . .  '^    In  prononncing  tliese 
words  she  b.     ^d  her  head  as  if  fhUing  into  a  gentle  slumber, 
and  in  blisb    /'.athed  her  last  sigh.    Her  soul  ascended  to 
Heaven  snrrosnded  by  angels  and  saints  who  had  come  to 
meet  her.     A  delicious  perfume  filled  the  humble  cottage 
which  now  contained  bat  her  mortal  remains,  and  those  pre- 
sent heard  a  chorus  of  heavenly  voices  singing  with  inetlable 
barmony  the  sublime  anthem  of  the  Church,  **  Regnum  mundi^ 
9t  omnem  ornatum  tOKuH  amtempsi  propter  amorem  Dominx 
met  Je»u  Chriati  /" 

This  was  during  the  night  of  the  19th  of  November,  a.  d. 
1231 ;  the  Saint  had  not  entirely  completed  her  twenty-fourth 
year. 

A  manuscript  entitled,  **  Antiquitates  monasterii  Aldenbcr- 
gensis,**  relates  that  the  little  Gertrude,  aged  four  years,  who 
was  then  at  Aldenberg,  said  at  that  time  to  her  companions, 
**I  hear  the  passing  bell  at  Marburg;  at  this  moment  the  dear 
lady,  my  mother,  is  dead  !** 

One  of  the  good  religions  who  wrote  the  life  of  the  dear 
Saint,  exclaims,  "  Do  you  blame  me,  dear  reader,  for  having 
w  ritten  that  Elis^abeth  is  dead  ?  Do  you  accuse  me  for  not 
having  alleged  other  causes  for  her  death  than  love  and  joy  ? 
Yes,  love  and  joy  led  her  from  this  v^le  of  tears  ;  she  left  it 
not  with  pain.  Death,  which  is  so  hard  and  so  terrible  a 
straggle,  had  no  share  in  this  departure,  in  which  a  •^'/tnous 
and  holy  life  was  succeeded  by  a  triumphant  and  blessed 
eternity  :  it  was  rather  a  privilege  of  grace  than  a  '^anishment 
of  sin  ;  an  achievement  of  victory,  not  a  foili"^  of  himaB 
feature.'' 


OV    «U«OABT. 


Ml 


1*11 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

BCW  THB  PBAH  SAINT  BLIZA9BTH  WA9  BURISD  «  TfTO  3HUB0B  WMAM 
HEK  nOSPITlL,  AND  HOW  EVEN  VnK  LITTLII  mRDf  OF  nfATB!! 
CELEBRATB)  B9K  QBSBQUIBa. 


"leee  qnod  Mneoplvl,J«in  vtdeo;  qiMd  «p«f»Tl,Jain  toii*o:  Ipilraai  |«Ml»ta 
Miwqnem  ta  terrii  poeiu,  tote  d«irotloM  An^uii."—Anthtm  qf  fl.  Afnt^—ifomam 

DiFFi^RENT  from  fill  bqinfin  glory,  tbat  of  the  laints  com- 
nieDces  or  ei^rth,  ^s  it  does  in  heaven,  bat  with  their  death  ; 
it  appears  that  a^  if,  in  bis  parental  solicitodc,  the  Lord  wills 
always  to  leavf  their  humility  onder  the  protection  of  the 
forgetfqlnesf,  Of  efen  of  the  insnlts  of  the  world,  nntil  nothing 
but  their  mortal  part  remains  to  be  exposed  to  its  dangerous 
praises. 

Thus,  scarcely  had  the  sonl  of  our  Elizabeth  sought  the 
rich  repose  of  heaven,  when  her  body  became  the  object  of 
a  veneration  which  hnd  too  frequently  been  refused  to  her 
during  life ;  and  we  find  that  this  poor  widow,  who  for  a 
long  time  had  been  persecuted,  despised,  and  cahimniated, 
occupied  the  thonghts  and  filled  the  hearts  of  all  faithful  Ca- 
tiiolics,  from  the  Supreme  Head  of  the  ChQr3h  to  the  hum- 
blest  pilgrim  of  pious  Germany. 

Wiien  she  had  breathed  her  last  sigh,  her  faithful  maidens 
and  some  other  devout  women  washed  her  body,  with  the 
greatest  respect  for  her  who  in  her  last  moments  so  nobly 
fulfilled  tlie  promises  of  the  glorious  victories  she  had  gained 
over  all  human  frailtiee  during  her  short  life. 

They  gave  b^r  for  a  shroad  the  torn  g^ments  which  bad 
been  her  only  cbthiug;  and  which  she  herself  had  desired 


■  ( ' 


S43 


LIFK    Of    IT.    ILIZABBTR, 


ii:;^.- 


■h 


!     ; 


Bhonld  form  ^  her  grave-clothes.    Her  sacred  body  was  thei 
taken  by  Franciscan  Religions,  accompanied  by  the  secular 
clergy  and  the  people,  while  chaunting  holy  hymns,  (though 
many  were  weeping,)  to  the  chapel  of  the  hospital  of  St. 
Francis,  which  was  destined  to  be  the  first  theatre  of  lior 
glory,  as  it  had  been  the  place  where  many  of  her  h(ruio 
Bdcriflces  for  the  love  of  God  and  of  the  poor  had  been  niudo. 
In  this  chapel  she  most  frequently  prayed,  and  perfoniio(i 
many  acts  of  devotion.    The  report  of  her  death  was  soon 
noised  abroad,  and  all  the  priests  and  monks  of  the  country, 
particularly  the  Cistercians,  as  well  as  an  immense  crowd  of 
people,  both  rich  and  poor,  can.j  to  render  the  last  honours 
to  her  who  was  so  early  summoned  to  receive  the  reward  of 
ber  labours.    Animated  by  that  popular  instinct  which  is  so 
frequently  the  forerunner  of  true  renown,  and  anticipating 
the  honour  which  the  Church  was  so  soon  to  decree  to  her 
precious  remains,  the  most  ardent  sought  to  procure  relics  of 
the  Saint.    They  threw  themselves  on  her  bier ;  some  tore 
away  pieces  of  her  robe  ;  others  cut  her  nails  and  her  hair ; 
some  women  went  even  so  far  as  to  cut  away  the  tips  of  hir 
ears  and  of  her  breast.     The  grief  occasioned  by  her  loss 
was  general ;  tears  flowed  from  every  eye  ;  on  all  sides  were 
heard  the  groans  and  lamentations  of  the  poor  and  sick,  who 
were  thus  deprived  of  her  tender  care,  and  who  came  in 
crowds  to-  take  a  last  look  of  their  benefactress  ;  all  wept 
together — it  seemed  as  if  each  one  had  lost  a  mother.    But 
how  could  we  describe  the  anguish  of  those  who  had  lost  in 
her  a  support  and  m  example  ?    Amongst  others,  the  Frao* 
ciscans,  whose  sister  she  was  by  rule  and  by  habit,  and  tc 
whom  she  had  ever  been  a  mother,  by  the  powerful  protoc- 
tion  she  had   afforded   them,  deplored  her  loss  with   deep 
affliction.     The  father  who  haft  left  us  her  biography  says— 
'^  When  I  think  upon  Elisabeth  I  would  &r  rather  weep  'imn 
•rrit«.'» 


or    RUNOAET. 


UM 


The  lore  and  derotion  of  the  people  exacted  permission  to 
have  her  cherished  remains  left  for  fonr  days  in  the  Charcb, 
ill  the  midst  of  the  pious  multitude,  who  continnully  prayed 
there  and  sang  canticles.  Her  countenance  was  uiicorered, 
and  offered  to  their  contemplation  the  most  enchanting  sight 
Her  youthful  beauty  had  reappeared,  with  all  its  freshnew 
iiiid  brilliancy  ;  the  bloom  of  her  early  life  again  visited  her 
cliecks.  Her  flesh,  far  from  being  rendered  stark  by  death, 
wtis  as  flexible  to  the  touch  as  if  she  was  still  alive.  **  Before 
her  death,"  says  one  of  her  historians,  "her  countenance 
was  like  that  of  one  who  had  passed  her  life  in  bitter  suffer* 
lugs.  But  scarcely  had  she  expired,  when  her  face  became 
60  smooth,  so  majestic,  and  so  beautiful,  that  this  sudden 
cliange  could  only  excite  admiration  ;  and  one  might  say  that 
Death,  the  ruthless  destroyer  of  all  things  fair,  visited  her 
but  to  obliterate  the  traces,  not  of  old  age  and  time,  but 
tliose  of  sorrow  and  austerity,  as  if  that  grace  which  hitherto 
replenished  her  soul  would  now  in  turn  animate  her  body. 
It  seemed  as  if,  through  the  mists  of  death,  some  of  the 
immortal  loveliness  beamed  upon  her,  or  thfit  glory  had  io 
anticipation  shed  some  of  its  rays  upon  a  body  that  was  one 
day  to  be  received  into  the  splendour  of  light  inaccessible.*' 

This  charming  tradition,  which  says  that  the  physical 
be&ttty  was  renewed  and  increased  in  the  body  of  Elizabeth, 
after  her  soul  was  delivered  from  it,  has  been  faithfully  fol- 
lowed by  the  unknown  artist  who  sculptured  tne  principal 
events  of  her  life  upon  the  altars  at  Marburg,  and  who  has 
represented  her  exposed  on  the  bier,  as  far  more  lovely  io 
her  death-sleep,  than  in  all  the  other  subjects. 

It  was  not  the  sight  alone  that  was  rejoiced  in  this  sad 
moment  by  the  body  of  the  youthful  saint ;  there  exhaled 
from  it  a  delicious  perfume,  which  was  a  tjrpe  of  the  grace 
and  virtue  of  which  it  had  been  the  mortal  covering.  Piont 
•ouls  remembered  the  words  of  the  wise  man,  when  be  tai^ 


II 


M4 


liri    OF    ST.     BLIIABIT*. 


i 


t;» 


'  li 


ikat "  tbe  memory  of  the  jast  it  Hko  the  odoar  of  m  aromatic 
balm.'' 

"Tliia  wonderful  fra^rranee,"  sajt  the  vnMdf  wtiom  w« 
previously  quoted,  "served  to  eonsole  \}i9  poor  and  all  tlit; 
ivy>ple  for  the  lose  they  had  sustained  ;  this  hearenly  Intiin 
gently  soothed  their  weariness,  and  stayed  the  sad  flow  of 
tbeir  tears  and  regrets,  by  the  assarance  they  received  from 
this  miraculous  sign,  that,  though  the  holy  one  was  (hml, 
the  could  still  be,  even  more  than  daring  her  lifetime,  tlie 
charitable  mother  of  the  poor — the  eertaiii  refuge  of  the 
alRicted,  aod  that  the  odoriferous  incense  of  her  prayer*), 
aMcnding  for  ever  to  the  throne  of  DiWite  Magesty,  would 
obtain  graces  for  afl  those  who  invoked  her  in  tiieir  neassi- 
ties." 

On  the  fourth  day  after  her  death,  hef  obsequies  were 
eelebnuted  with  tbe  greatest  solenraiCy.  Thit  pure  and  pre 
eioui  treasure,  this  rich  and  daszling  jewel,  was  hidden  iin 
der  an  humble  ston^  in  the  chapel  of  her  hospital,  in  pre- 
ience  of  the  Abbots  and  Religious  of  several  neighbouring 
ttonasteiles,  and  a  crowd  of  people,  whose  grief  was  violent, 
hut  most  expressivei,  and  whom  it  required  the  best  efforts 
of  the  clergy  to  keep  in  order. 

It  was  certainly  a  wonderful  homage,  that  paid  to  the 
dieparted  saint  on  this  occasion  ;  but  with  the  grief  of  these 
simple  ones,  many  hearts  beat  with  sentiments  truly  wortliy 
of  her,  for  all  raised  their  voices  to  heaven  in  accents  of  fer- 
tent  devotion  and  pious  gratitude,  whidi  they  experienced, 
in  having  been  permitted  to  see  one,  whose  example  was  so 
glorious  and  so  Worthy  of  imitation. 

Bat  the  Lord  reserved  for  His  friend  a  still  sweeter  and 
more  affecting  homage. 

On  the  night  preceding  the  solemnization  of  the  last  rites, 
the  Abbess  of  Wechere,  who  had  come  to  assist  at  the  fu- 
neMl  ceremony,  heard  a  harmony  which  astonished  her  ex 


or  tuvuAitr. 


inMni'l?  ;  she  went  outside,  accompanied  bj  soTcral  persons, 
to  Icarn  whence  it  proceeded — and  tliey  saw  on  the  roof  of 
the  church  an  immense  number  of  birds,  of  a  npccies  un- 
known to  men  before  that  time,  and  these  sunj^  in  tones  so 
sweet  and  varied,  that  all  who  listened  were  fillid  with  ad- 
ti.iratioQ,  TUeio  |ittl^  creatures  seemed  to  celebrate  this 
glurioos  birkl-aerviee.  They  were,  according  to  the  opinions 
of  some,  the  angels  who  had  borne  Elizabeth's  happ/  soul 
to  heaven,  and  who  had  now  returned  to  honour  her  body 
by  their  hymns  of  eelettial  ^^adneaa. 

"These  little  birds,"  says  St.  Bona  venture,  "rendered 
testuuoqy  tp  her  purity  by  speaking  of  her  in  tlic^r  laugqage 
at  her  burial,  and  singing  with  such  wondrous  sweetness  ove^ 
Iter  tomb.  He  who  spoke  by  the  mouth  of  an  ass,  to  rcprovp 
tlie  fplly  of  a  prophet,  could  as  well  proclAim  by  tie  voiee  of 
birds  th«  'mmd^f)$  of  a  a^int'' 


946 


LIFK    Of    ST.     ILltABITB, 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


1 

I 


m  Till  WONDRRrrL  MIRACLRS  OBTAINED  rROM  OOD  BT  TIIS  IXTm. 
CESSION  or  TUB  DEAR  ST.  KLIZABBTH,  AND  HOW  ANIIGUSLY  II R| 
■ROTOEB'IN-LAW,  DUKE  OOMRAD,  WISHBO  TO  BAVB  nCR  CiNOX- 
IZBD. 

*  la  Tito  SM  iKit  raoMln,  •!  la  oiorto  minMlk  o^fvatnt  Mt.** 

EocL  ilTlll.  II. 

The  Lord  delayed  not  the  manifestation  of  the  iniracuiouH 
power  with  wliich  He  was  pleased  lieneeforth  to  invest  Inr 
whose  whole  life  had  been  bnt  one  long  act  of  humility.  To 
the  invincible  love  which  had  preferred  in  this  world,  loii«  li- 
ness  and  misery  for  His  sake,  He  hastened  to  bestow,  as  a 
iure  pledge  of  victory,  the  right  of  disposing  of  the  treusm-t « 
of  heaven. 

On  the  second  day  after  her  funeral,  a  certain  monk  of 
the  order  of  Citeaux  came  to  kneel  at  her  tomb  and  to  rcfjiK  st 
her  assistance.  For  more  than  forty  years,  this  unhap])y  one 
languished  from  an  interior  grief,  a  bitter  heart-wound,  that 
no  human  remedy  could  heal  ;  but  after  having  invoked  tliin 
zealous  consolatrix  of  all  sufiferings,  with  a  firm  faith,  he  felt 
himself  delivered  from  the  yoke  under  which  he  had  so  long 
mourned  ;  and  this  he  testified  upon  oath  before  Master  Con* 
rad  and  the  Curate  of  Marburg.  This  was  the  first  cure  (•{> 
erated  by  her  intercession;  and  it  is  iuteresting  to  remark  liow 
this  tender  and  loving  soul,  who  had  endured  so  many  heai  t- 
felt  sorrows  during  her  life,  should  have  chosen  as  the  first  nlr 
ject  of  her  merciful  interposition  in  heaven,  one  of  those  painrul 
interior  trials  which  the  science  of  man  knows  not  how  tu  lio.il, 
tor  even  to  compassionate.  , 

fiome  little  time  after,  there  came  to  her  tomb  a  prelnia 


or  noMOAiif. 


947 


of  moAt  illufltrlous  birth  and  hiffh  ecele»iMtictil  di^iUy  :  history 
liiis  not  recorded  his  name,  but  has  acciMcd  liiin  of  haviu§ 
Im(1  addicted  to  all excessefl  of  vice,  which  the  sacred  eharac> 
t(  r  of  his  oiBce  rendered  still  more  odious.  OftcntirnM  « 
l>roy  to  remorse  and  shame,  he  hod  recourse  to  tlio  tribonal 
ot  )>enance,  but  fruitlessly  ;  at  the  first  temptation,  he  yielded 
n.rain,  and  his  relapses  became  more  and  more  scandalooa 
mid  deplorable.  Still  he  strugji^led  against  his  frailty,  and, 
siii-staincd  as  he  was,  he  came  to  seek  strength  at  the  shrine 
of  the  pure  and  holy  Elizabeth.  He  prayed,  ind  inyoked 
b(>r  protection  and  intercession,  wbilnt  shedding  a  torrent  of 
tours,  and  remained  kneeling  for  many  hours,  al)SO!'bed  in 
frrvour  and  deep  contrition.  He  ceased  not  his  ardent  iap> 
plications,  nntil  in  his  soul  be  felt  convinced  that  they  had 
reached  the  Mercy-seat,  and  that  the  Lord  had  listened  to 
the  petition  that  his  well-beloved  Elizabeth  had  preset  .le J  in 
the  name  of  this  poor  victim  of  sin  ;  he  felt  himself  mdaed 
with  a  spiritual  strength  far  greater  than  the  impulses  of 
vice  ;  and  from  that  moment,  as  he  declared  when  confessing 
to  Master  Conrad,  the  sting  of  the  flesh  was  so  vanquished 
in  him,  that  thenceforward  he  had  but  to  struggle  against 
trivial  temptations,  which  he  was  enabled  to  overcome  quite 
easily. 

Many  other  souls,  suiTering  and  oppressed  under  the  chafau 
of  sin,  learned  to  shake  them  off  near  tit.  v\)st!ng-place  of 
tliis  holy  woman,  who  in  her  life-time  had  so  nobly  rent 
liicra  asunder  ;  of  these,  the  most  freer,  intly  recorded  are  of 
men  who  learned  to  triumph  over  the  passions  of  hatred, 
pride,  avarice,  and  anger  ;  and  surely,  to  escape  from  such 
Bins,  tliey  could  not  follow  a  more  faithful  guide  than  her 
who  had  humbled  herself  to  the  lowest — who  had  given  hef 
wliole  being  to  Qod,  and  all  her  wealth  to  His  poor — and 
who  had  passed  her  life  in  the  practice  of  aniTersal  Iot«  and 
forgivenesg  I 


M0 


LIPB    Of    it.    SLIZABBTH, 


ii    : 


1 

1 

ill 

•  1* 
1       i 

!|  i 

.;    1 

ii 

1         ; 

■3 

1   :■■  > 

!  5 

i 

!) 

fi 

in. 

J 

(V 


Not  only  did  spiritaal  infinnities  experience  ihe  effet  ts  of 
her  efficacious  piety  ;  physical  sufferings  and  infirmities,  such 
as  slie  had  so  continnally  soothed  dnring  her  life,  t)ion<rli 
bsing  in  her  the  compassionate  norse,  foceiyed  instca<l,  a 
iihare  of  the  new  and  wonderful  power  which  rendered  Ikt 
by  Ood^s  mercy,  their  nnfailing  healer  and  most  skilful  })liy 
sician. 

An  interesting  narrative  informs  as  how  quickly  she  exor- 
cised this  benevolent  faculty,  and  how  her  glorified  soul  re- 
tained the  gentle  familiarity  with  the  hambl*  and  the  poor, 
which  was  the  great  charm  of  her  mortal  life.     At  the  M 
nastery  of  Rcynhartsbrunn,  where  Dnke  Lonis  reposed  with 
bis  ancestors,  there  was  a  lay-brother,  who  filled  the  ofli*  e 
of  miller  ;  he  was  a  man  of  fervent  piety,  who  practisi  () 
many  anstcrities.     Amongst  others,  he  always  wore  an  iron 
cuirass  on  his  body,  the  better  to  mortify  the  flesh.    The 
Duchess,  in  her  freqnent  visits  to  the  Abbey,  had  remarked 
this  poor  brother,  and  entertained  for  him,  on  account  of  his 
sanctity,  a  special  aflfection.    One  day  when  she  had  come  to 
pray  at  the  tonib  of  her  husband,  she  met  the  brother  niilh  i 
and  spoke  to  him  with  great  kindness;  she  exacted  from  Inn: 
a^  promise  of  joining  with  her  in  a  inutnal  and  spiritUHl  cnm- 
munity  of  prayers,  in  pledge  of  which  she  extended  her  haii<l 
Mid  took  his,  notwithstanding  the  resistance  of  the  huuille 
monk,  who,  in  his  simplicity,  blushed  at  touching  the  hnmi 
of  so  illustrious   a  lady.     Some   time   after,  as   he  was   lu 
pairing  some  of  the  implements  of  his  occupation,  one  of  the 
sails  of  the   mill   suddenly   struck   him,   and   shattered    his 
arm.      He  suffered  extreme  torture  from  this   accident,  Imt 
hs  waited  patiently  until  it  should   please  the  Lord  to  give 
him  relief.     During  the  night  of  the  19th  November,  while 
the  soul  of  his  noble  and  holy  sister  was  returning  to  (mh\ 
irtio  made  it,  the  brother  miller  was  keeping  vigil,  piaying  in 
bis  abbey-church,  and  groaning  with  ihe  pain  of  Lis  brukun 


09    aHflOARY. 


849 


arm  Boddeulj  he  taw  the  Dncfaett  Elizabeth  appear  befora 
him,  dad  in  royal  obee,  and  resplendent  with  a  wonderftif 
Ii<;ht.  She  said  to  him,  with  her  accastomed  gentleness-^ 
"What  dost  thou,  good  Brother  Volkmar,  and  how  art 
tbon  V*  Though  alarmed  and  dazzled  by  the  clear  brilliancy 
that  shone  aroand  her,  he  recognised  her  and  said — "  How  is 
it,  dear  lady,  that  yoo  who,  ordinarily,  were  clothed  in  sneh 
miserable  garments,  have  now  snch  beantifnl  and  gorgeoas 
raiment  V*  "  It  is  because  my  condition  is  changed,"  she 
replied  ;  and  then  she  raised  his  right  hand — that  which  she 
had  formerly  taken  as  a  sign  of  friendship— that  which  had 
been  shatter<jd  by  the  mill,  and  healed  it. 

This  touching  of  the  wounded  member  seemed  so  painfuT 
to  him,  that  he  awoke,  as  if  from  a  dream,  and  found  hit 
hand  and  arm  entirely  sound  and  well.  He  then  thanked  th6 
Lord,  and  that  dear  sister  who  had  thought  of  him  on  hei 
entrance  into  heaven. 

Bnt  still  greater  prodigies  took  place  on  the  days  immo 
diately  after  her  obsequies ;  nnhappy  creatures,  suffering 
under  ^inM  maladies — deaf,  lame,  blind,  idiots,  leperSi 
paralytics,  some  of  whom  had  come,  thinking  her  still  alive, 
to  implore  her  assistance-— all  of  whom  were  cured,  aftef 
praying  in  the  chapel  wherein  she  rested.  Contemporary 
writers  have  left  us  authentic  details  of  these  wonders  ;  of 
the  many,  we  will  relate  but  one,  the  truth  of  which  wai 
iwom  to  before  the  Apostolic  Judges  ;  it  will  afford  the  reader 
wme  idea  of  the  others. 

A  man  of  Marburg  nanned  Henry,  aged  forty  years,  had 
101  8om«3  time  such  weak  sight  that  he  often  mistook  cornfields 
for  the  high  road,  and  this  drew  upon  him  the  ridicule  of  hit 
companions. 

At  length  he  became  entirely  blind,  and  had  to  be  ltd 
wherever  he  wished  to  go.  He  had  himself  guided  to  tba 
tomb  of  her  who  was  already  denoiuinated  the  happy  MtEtk 


1 

■'  ^S 

{ 

''f  lot 

rm 

ii   r!  -■    ' 


860 


LIFB    Of    ST.     BLIZABITH, 


r  ! 


r  r  ■ 


ill 


beth,  Mid  he  made  a  tow  to  her  and  offered  two  wax  tai^ert 
The  judges  asked  him  what  words  he  used  when  ioToking  her, 
and  he  repeated  the  following : 

"  Dear  Lady,  St.  Elizabeth,  cnre  mj  eyes,  and  I  will  al 
ways  be  thy  faithful  servant,  and  I  will  pay  each  year  two 
oencc  to  thy  hospitaP — and  immediately  he  received  clenret 
sight  than  he  had  ever  before  possessed  ;  this  happened  on 
the  fifteenth  day  after  the  death  of  the  saint. 

The  account  of  these  wonders  spread  rapidly  throughout 
the  neighbourhood  of  Marburg,  and  greater  crowds  daily 
came  to  solicit  relief  from  their  respective  sufferings;  the 
Divine  Mercy  responded  to  the  faith  of  the  Christian  people, 
and  granted  to  the  prayers  of  those  who  petitioned  Elizabeth 
as  their  advocate  numerous  and  palpable  graces. 

Master  Conrad,  watchful  of  the  glorious  effects  of  a  life  for 
which  he  was  in  some  degree  responsible,  and  some  part  of 
the  renown  of  which  he  could  assume  with  just  reason,  failed 
not  to  communicate  to  Pope  Gregory  IX.  an  account  of  the 
miracles  which  the  Divine  Power  had  been  pleased  to  work 
at  the  tomb  of  the  glorious  dead,  and  of  the  ever  increasing 
veneration  of  the  people  towards  her  ;  this  he  requested  him 
to  confirm,  by  solemnly  declaring  her  right  to  the  invocation 
of  the  faithful.  Notwithstanding  that  ninety  years  had  rolled 
over  the  illustrious  Pontiff,  his  heart  was  still  youthful  with 
love  and  solicitude  for  the  honour  of  God  and  of  the  Church  ; 
he  already  had  the  happiness  of  canonizing  Saint  Francis  of 
Assisium,  and  hnd  in  this  same  year  inscribed  by  the  side  of 
Ihe  Seraph  Saint  in  heaven,  his  most  illustrious  disciple,  St. 
Anthony  of  Padua.  The  holy  Pope  then  replied  to  Conrad  with 
affectionate  haste,  but  also  with  consummate  prudence,  "  We 
have  learned  from  thy  letter,"  wrote  he,  "  dear  son,  Conrad, 
with  tears  of  sweet  joy,  how  the  glorious  Master,  whose  power 
Is  unlimited,  has  blessed  His  servant  Elizabeth  of  illustrioni 
memory,  during  her  life,  our  dearest  daughter  in  Jesus  Christ 


OP    BUNOART. 


3ftl 


ind  Dachess  of  Thariagia  ;  how  from  weak  and  fragilo  as  she 
was  by  nature,  He  by  His  grace  made  her  strong — analtcr* 
able  in  the  worship  of  His  divine  name  *  and  how  after  admit 
ting  her  to  the  assembly  of  the  Saints,  He  has  manifested  by 
glorious  signs  the  beatitude  which  He  has  granted  unto  her/' 

Meanwhile  the  Pontiff  remembering  that  a//  that  glistens  it 
not  goldf  and  wishing  to  remove  every  shadow  of  doubt  from 
minds  even  the  most  sceptical,  he  commanded  the  Archbishop 
of  Mayence,  the  Abbot  of  Eberbach,  and  Master  Conrad,  to 
collect  all  the  public  and  solemn  testimonies  on  every  circum- 
stance in  the  life  of  the  Duchess  that  could  have  been  agreeable 
to  God  and  man,  as  well  as  of  the  miracles  which  had  been 
wrought  after  her  death  ;  and  after  having  re-written  these 
depositions  to  affix  to  them  their  seals,  and  to  send  theiy  to 
Rome  by  trust-worthy  messengers.  He  prescribed  at  the 
same  time  the  forms  which  were  to  be  observed  in  the  exami- 
nation of  witnessii,  with  tn  attention  wen  to  the  most  minute 
details,  which  proves  at  once  his  care  and  wisdom  in  this  de- 
licate a£fair. 

Sigefrid,  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  in  whose  diocese  the  city 
of  Marburg  and  the  tomb  of  Elizabeth  were  situated,  had 
been  equally  impressed  with  admiration  at  the  wonders  the 
Divine  Goodness  was  pleased  to  work  amongst  his  flock. 
At  the  request  of  Master  Conrad,  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  a 
revelation  made  to  him  in  a  vision,  he  went  to  Marburg  to 
consecrate  solemnly,  on  the  feast  of  St.  Lawrence  (10th  Au- 
gust, 1232),  two  Altars  which  the  faithful  had  erected  in  ho- 
nour of  Elbsabcth  in  the  chapel  in  which  she  was  interred. 
An  immense  multitude  had  assembled  to  assist  at  this  cere- 
mony, as  well  as  to  listen  to  the  sermon  which  Master  Con- 
rad was  to  preach  in  commemoration  of  his  illustrious  penitent. 
During  his  discourse  he  remembered  that  he  could  not  have  a 
more  favourable  opportunity  of  fulfilling  the  mandate  of  tbe 
Pope,  so  without  further  reflection,  he  enjoined  all   thoet 


aft» 


IIFB    OV    IT.    StIIABBTR, 


{■^ 


!■,      1 


11 


!  1 


amongst  his  ftsditory  who  had  obtained  aDj  core  or  heavenly 
favour  through  the  intercesslou  of  the  Duchess,  to  prtsint 
thcmselvea  with  their  wituesses  or«  the  next  morniug  at  th« 
hour  of  Prime,  before  the  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  and  the 
other  Prelates  who  bad  come  to  assist  at  the  dodicatiou  of  ihe 
Altars. 

Am  the  appointee^  time  a  considerable  number  of  pors  )ni 
were  assembled,  all  < .'  v  horn  affirmed  that  they  had  received 
graces  through  tho  intercession  of  Elizabeth  ;  as  the  Arch* 
bishop  was  obliged  to  depart  on  account  of  some  very  pressing 
business,  he  waited  only  till  the  most  remarkable  statcnionti 
were  written  out ;  he  could  not  seal  them,  neither  could  tlie 
other  Prelates,  as  none  of  them  had  brought  their  episcopal 
seals. 

faster  Conrad  copied  these  depositions  word  for  word,  aMd 
receired  many  others  on  oatb  ;  and  after  having  re-read  the 
entire  for  the  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  and  the  abbot  of  Eber* 
bach,  who  found  nothing  to  change  therein,  he  forwarded 
them  to  the  Pope  together  with  an  account  of  the  life  of  Eliza- 
beth from  his  own  recollections.  This  precious  memorial  has 
been  preserved,  and  forms  the  most  ancient  source  from  which 
^he  historian  of  the  saint's  life  could  derive  information.  Tiiis 
first  enumeration  of  miracles  transmitted  by  Master  Conrad, 
contains  detailed  accounts  of  thirty-seven  sudden  and  super- 
natural cures,  made  out  accordiiig  to  the  Pope's  directioiis, 
with  the  most  precise  references,  as  to  places,  dates  and  per- 
sons, as  well  as  the  form  of  prayer  used  in  each  case.  The 
greater  number  of  these  recitals  excite  in  us  at  least  the  deep- 
est interest  In  them  we  perceive  that  the  sufferers  who  had 
.  recourse  to  her,  spoke  always  when  seeking  her  assistance  in 
the  tender  and  familiar  language  which  her  extreme  humility 
had  permitted  during  her  life  :  "  Dear  Saiut  Elizabeth,"  said 
they,  "  cure  my  limb  and  I  will  ever  be  thy  faithful  servant." 
Or,  **  Dear  painted  ladj  and  Dncbess  Elizabeth,  I  recommeod 


OF    HUNOART. 


9Aa 


to  thee  my  dsnghter."  "  0  blessed  Elizaf)eth ,"  cried  a  poor 
n:iother,  whose  son  had  died  and  was  about  to  be  baned« 
"why  have  I  thus  lost  my  child ?  come  to  my  assistance  and 
bring  him  again  to  life."  In  a  moment  after  the  pnlses  of 
t))e  child  began  to  beat,  he  was  restored  from  the  dead,  and 
after  haying  for  a  long  time  striven  to  speak,  he  said  towards 
midnight,  "  Where  am  I,  bcloYed  ^"  He  had  not  as  yet  re- 
cognised hie  mother. 

Another  poor  woman,  whose  daughter  had  been  for  five 
years  suffering  from  painftil  infirmities,  amongst  others,  from 
enormous  tumours  on  the  back  and  breast,  brought  her  to  the 
tomb  of  Elizabeth  and  remained  there  for  two  days  in  prayer. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  thinking  that  her  supplications  were 
unheeded,  she  murmured  loudly  against  the  saint,  saying, 
"As  thou  hast  not  listened  to  me,  I  will  hinder  every  one 
from  coming  to  thy  sepulchre."     In  this  irritated  mood  she 
left  Marburg,    but  had  not  gone  beyond  a  mile  and  a  half, 
when  the  screams  and  agony  of  her  daughter  obliged  her  to 
rest  near  a  fountain  in  the  village  of  Rosdorf ;  the  girl  slept 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  when  she  awoke  she  said  that  she  had 
seen  a  beauteous  lady  whose  hands  were  smooth  and  white, 
that  she  had  laid  her  hands  gently  on  the  sorest  parts  of  her 
body,  while  saying  to  her,  "Arise  and  walk,"  and  imme- 
diately the  young  girl  cried  out,  "  O  my  mother,  I  feel  my- 
self recovered  in  all  my  body."    They  returned  together  to 
the  tomb  to  give  thanks  to  the  saint,  and  left  there  the  bas- 
ket in  which  the  sufferer  had  been  carried. 

A  young  man  whose  limbs  were  paralysed,  and  who  was 
nlso  affected  with  a  spinal  malady,  was  brought  in  a  chariol 
to  the  grave  of  the  Duchess,  where  the  pain  in  his  back  was 
cared,  and  as  they  brought  him  home  he  said,  "  Saint  Elizik. 
beih,  I  return  no  more  to  thy  shrine,  unless  that  by  thy  mer- 
uy  I  can  go  there  on  my  feet ;  but  indeed  I  will  go  if  thot 
obtainest  for  me  that  favour."    Some  days  after,  on  the  feail 


V. 


tm 


Lirit    07    IT.    B&IBA.BITB, 


■;  i! 


of  All  Saints;  he  fband  that  strength  was  entirely  restored  to 
bis  limbs,  and  that  he  was  thus  enabled  to  accomplish  hii 
fow. 

It  is  almost  with  regret  that  we  discootiniie  tbese  aur- 
dotes,  so  replete  are  tbe;^  with  precious  traces  of  the  fuith  and 
manners  of  that  ag<j« 

This  coUeetioB  of  testimonj  was  not  completed  ulu!  t!,; 
first  months  of  the  year  1233,  and  tlieir  tranamissi :>i  to  llome 
WAS  delayed  by  some  cause  ankuown  to  oa.  Before  1(117 
wore  sent  Comrad  had  perished,  the  victiui  of  hia  zeul  for  tl/o 
l^ith. 

The  boldness  with  which  he  accused  and  pursued  the  n  l  os 
and  even  pov'»erful  {>rinceB  wlien  once  their  tendency  to  here>y 
was  suspected,  excat^^  ihak  terrible  hatred  and  raitcoor  against 
him,  and  these  i>  clings  were  augmented  by  the  excessive,  and 
perha[>3  sometimes,  unjust  severity  of  many  of  his  proceedings 
On  the  30th  of  July,  as  he  waa  jauineying  from  Mayence  to 
Marburg,  he  wa&  surprised  near  the  village  of  ICappel  by  sev- 
eral squires  and  vassals  of  the  Count  de  Sayn,  whom  he  luui 
SKScused  of  heresy;  they  darted  upon  liim  and  strangled  him. 
The  assassins  wished  to  spare  his  disciple  and  companion^  Bro- 
ther Gerard,  a  Franciscan,  but  he  dung  so  closely  to  his  mas- 
ter that  it  was  impossible  to  kill  one  without  the  other.  The 
bodies  of  Conrad  and  his  fiiend  were  canied  to  Marburg  with 
tile  deep  r^et  of  the  people.  He  was  interred  in  the  same 
ehapel  with  the  Duchess,  and  at.  a  little  distance  from  her  se- 
pulchral stone. 

The  death  of  Conrad,  who  had  so  fkithAilly  watched  over 
Her  posthumons  glory,  as  he  Bad  over  her  souPs  weal  durin;^ 
her  life,  was  a  great  obstaclie  in  the  way  of  the  canoniration  ^f 
Blizabeth,  which  so  many  faithful  souls  had  desired  and  hoped 
for.  Some  of  the  proofe  that  he  had  collected  were  neglect  ci 
0r  lost;  and  ths  popular  feeling,  on  the  subject  began  to  de 


OP    B<CH«ARr. 


But  the  Lord  delayed  not  to  raiae  ap  t  new  and  tealow 
defender  of  the  glory  of  His  homble  servant,  and  that  at  the 
time  that  it  wa«  least  expected.  Of  the  two  broUiers  left  by 
Duke  Loois^  husband  of  our  dear  Elizabeth,  and  of  whoei 
base  oondoct  towards  their  sister-in-law  we  have  read,  the 
elder,  Henry,  governed  the  dommious  during  the  minority  of 
Hermann,  son  of  Lonis  ;  the  other,  Courad,  revelled  in  all  the 
unbridled  indulgence  that  youthful  passion  coold  suggest.  lo 
1232,  on  account  of  a  penance  inflicted  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Mayenoe  on  the  abbot  <of  Reynhartsbrunh,  who  was  always 
protected  by  the  House  of  Thviugia,  the  Landgrave  Conrad 
was  so  ai^y  with  the  Prelate  that  he  rushed  upon  him  in 
the  assembled  chapter  at  Erfurtb,  dragged  him  by  the  hair, 
threw  him  on  the  ground  and  would  have  stabbed  him  bat 
that  his  servants  interfered.  But  not  content  with  this  ex- 
cess, he  began  to  ravage  the  possessions  of  the  See  of  Jiiiay 
ence,  and  amongst  other  places  the  city  of  Fritzlar. 

He  took  it  by  assault,  and  to  revenge  the  derision  with 
which  be  had  been  regarded  by  the  inhabitants  during  the 
siege,  he  set  fire  to  the  town,  and  burned  its  convents, 
churches,  and  a  great  number  of  the  people.  He  then  re 
tired  to  his  castle  of  Tenneberg,  where  he  was  soon  touched 
by  the  hand  of  Qod. 

There  came  to  his  gate  one  day,  a  girl  of  bad  character, 
who  asked  him  for  some  relief ;  the  Landgrave  reproached  her 
severely  on  the  infamy  of  her  life  ;  the  unfortunate  creature 
replied,  that  dire  want  had  forced  her  to  it,  and  gave  him  such 
a  startling  account  of  this  misery  that  he  was  so  far  moved  as 
to  promise  her  to  provide  for  her  future  wants  in  case  she  re- 
nounced her  criminal  ways.  This  incident  produced  a  power- 
ful  effect  on  his  mind  ;  he  passed  the  whole  night  in  extreme 
figitation,  reflecting  how  much  more  guilty  he  was  than  the 
unhappy  woman  whom  he  had  insulted,  whom  poverty  had 
impelled  to  vice/ whilst  he,  who  was  rich  and  powerful,  madi 


i 


..  I 


SM 


LIFE    OF    8T.     ILIIABBTH, 


•o  bad  a  ase  of  all  God'R  gifts.  In  the  morning  he  coromniii* 
cated  these  thoughts  to  his  companions  in  crime  and  violcm  e, 
and  learned  with  extreme  surprise  that  thej  had  mudo  tlm 
same  reflections  ;  they  regarded  this  interior  voice,  speakini? 
to  them  simultaneously,  as  a  warning  from  Heaven,  and  tlio; 
resolved  to  do  penance  and  to  amend  their  lives. 

They  went  first  on  a  pilgrimage  barefooted  to  Qladenbncli, 
and  thence  to  Rome,  to  obtain  from  the  Pope  himself  absohi- 
lion  of  their  sins. 

When  they  arrived  at  Rome  (1233),  Conrad  gave  an  ox- 
ample  of  the  most  sincere  repentance  and  fervent  pitty. 
Every  day  he  received  &.;  bis  table  twenty-four  poor  people 
whom  he  served  himself.  The  Pope  gave  hiui  absolution  on 
condition  of  being  reconciled  with  the  Archbishop  of  Maycnoe 
and  with  all  those  whom  he  had  wronged,  of  building  and  en- 
dowing a  monastei'y  in  place  of  those  he  had  burned,  of  mak- 
ing a  public  apology  at  the  ruins  of  Fritzlar,  and  of  entering 
himself  into  a  religious  order.  Whilst  he  was  thus  returning 
to  Grod,  the  remembrance  of  his  holy  and  humble  sister-in-law, 
whom  he  had  despised  and  persecuted,  presented  itself  to  his 
mind ;  he  resolved  to  atone  for  the  injuries  he  had  done  In  r 
by  labouring  to  extend  her  glory ;  and  in  the  conversations  1 
had  with  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  he  spoke  of  her  great  sanctity 
and  urged  her  speedy  canonization. 

Immediately  after  his  return  to  Qermany  he  hastened  to 
fulfil  the  conditions  of  his  absolution.  He  went  to  Fritzlar, 
where  those  who  had  escaped  from  the  massacre  of  the  inha- 
bitants had  taken  refuge  near  the  ruins  of  the  principal  mo- 
nastery ;  he  prostrated  himself  before  them  and  begged  of 
them  for  the  love  of  God  to  forgive  him  the  injury  he  had 
done. 

He  then  walked  in  procession,  barefooted,  with  a  whip  iu 
his  hand,  he  knelt  at  the  Chnrch-porch  and  invited  all  who 
•rishcd  to  do  so  to  come  and  administer  to  him  the  dis4MpIino 


i« 


Of    BUXOARr. 


991 


Of  all  the  crowd  there  was  found  bat  one  willing  to  puniah 
biia,  and  that  waa  an  old  woman  who  advanced  and  gave  him 
several  stripes  on  the  back  which  he  endured  with  great  pa* 
ti<  nee.  He  then  set  about  re-constmcthig  the  Monastery 
aiid  the  Church  where  he  established  canons  ;  and  at  the  same 
time  ho  conceded  many  important  privileges  to  the  town  of 
Fritzlar  At  his  return  to  Eisenach,  with  the  assistance  of 
his  brother  Hunry,  be  founded  a  content  of  Friars  Preachers, 
uudiT  the  iiivocation  of  C}t.  John,  but  for  the  special  intention 
of  \m  sister-in-law  Elizabeth,  to  atone  for  his  having  been  au 
accomplice  in  exposing  her  to  the  bitter  sufferings  she  had 
eudured  in  that  same  town  of  Eisenach  after  her  cruel  expul- 
sioii  from  Wartburg,  / 

From  this  time  forward  the  young  Landgrave  devoted  him- 
coif  to  the  extension  of  Elizabeth's  glory,  with  a  zeal  similar 
10  that  of  the  deceased  Master  Conrad.  Having  decided 
ipon  entering  the  Teutonic  Order,  he  took  the  habit  and  Cross 
111  the  Church  of  the  hospital  of  St.  Francis,  which  Elizabeth 
iiad  founded  at  Marburg  ;  he  made  his  brother  confirm  the 
donation  that  she  had  made  to  the  hospital,  with  the  property 
karrounding  it  to  these  knightly  monks,  and  added  all  his  own 
possessions  in  Hesse  and  Thuringia.  He  obtained  also  a  re- 
cognition of  these  settlements  by  the  Pope,  and  that  this  hos- 
pital thus  become  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  Teutonic  Order, 
should  be  exempt  from  all  episcopal  jurisdiction,  and  endowed 
with  many  other  rights  and  prerogatives,  all  in  honour  of  the 
Dachess  Elizabeth,  who  was  interred  there,  in  order,  as  he 
laid  in  his  petition  to  the  Pope,  that  this  sacred  body,  alr^sady 
a-lebrated  by  the  veneration  of  the  ilaithful,  should  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  liberty. 

Meanwhile  he  earnestly  entreated  the  Pope  to  make  a  so 
lemn  recognition  of  the  graces  that  God  granted  daily  thiougb 
the  intercession  of  Elizabeth.  The  Pope  yielded  at  length  to 
bis  pniyers,  and  wishing,  says  a  contemporary  writer,  that 


us 


Ztrm   t>V    IT.    BLItABITH, 


<     I 


the  ptoQs  flimplidtj  of  l;h«  Obarch  militant  «hoald  no'  )>e  dc 
ueived,  if  the  facta  brought  forward  were  not  proved,  bin  aNc 
that  the  Charch  triumphant  siiotild  not  be  deprircd  of  thii 
addition  to  its  glory,  if  the  truth  wan  fbniid  eqaa  to  tlM>  r*^ 
nowtt,  in  a  brief  dated  the  5th  of  the  Ides  of  October,  \2?,i, 
tlie  Pontiff  charged  the  Bishop  of  Hiideaheira,  the  al«bi)tti| 
Uermamj de  Qeoi^nthal  and  Raymond  de  Herford  to  pro*  icU] 
to  a  new  examination  of  the  miracles  attributed  to  Rliztihoth. 
In  this  brief  he  also  ordered  the  three  OoramlKearies  to  8*iid{ 
bim  the  reeolt  of  the  Inqoiriea  made  before  by  the  Arelibishup 
of  Mayenee  and  Master  Oonmd,  and  in  «ase  they  coiibi  n«>t| 
find  these,  to  take  in  writini^  the  testimony  of  the  persons  ))re 
viousiy  examined,  and  of  all  others  who  C(yold  afford  moro  in 
formation,  and  t^send  all  to  Rome  before  the  expiration  of  livej 
months  from  the  receipt  of  this  letter.    The  Bishop  and  his 
colleagues,  docSe  to  the  injunctions  of  the  Sovereign  PoutifTj 
<had  this  brief  fniblished  in  the  surrounding  dioceses,  anil 
appointed  a  day  for  all  the  faithful  who  knew  of  any  cure  or 
fpnaoe  Obtained  tbrongh  the  intercession  of  the  Duchess  to  come  I 
to  iSdarbnrg,  and  where  possible,  that  these  facts  should  be 
iittested  by  their  pi^iates  and  pastors.     On  the  day  fixed  t  lie 
▲postoKc  Oommiflsaries  w«nt  to  Marbonrg,  where  they  found  | 
•Assembled  several  thousand  i^ersons  come  from  all  parts  of! 
J<ihirope,  with  many  of  the  Abbots  of  the  Cistercian  and  Pre-j 
feBonstFatensian  Orders,  a  great  nnmber  of  Priors,  and  ofi 
Friars  Minors  and  Preachers,  of  Canons  regular  of  the  Tea- 
tonic  Ord»,  and  of  many  other  learned  and  prudent  men.  The  i 
witnesses  made  tbehr  depositions  on  oath  before  this  solemn 
tribunal ;  their  testimonies  were  scrapnlously  weighed  and  j 
examined  by  ecclesiastical  lawyers  and  professors  of  jaris- 
prudenca. 

We.  do  not  recognise  in  this  inquiry- any  names  but  tbost 
of  the  four  attendants  of  the  Duchess,  Guta  who  had  lived  I 
Jirith  her  from  her  Mh  year,  Ysentrode  her  coofidaut  6nd  best  j 


f::); 


•f    KOH»ik»T» 


(H^nd,  Elizabeth  and    Irmengardi  ..  iio  had  been  in  her 
rice  flaring  her  sojourn  at  Marburg.      These  four  then  de- 
lailtd  ail  they  knew  of  the  life  of  their  mistress  ;  these  price- 
less narratives  have  been  preserved  entire,  and  have  furnished 
|ns  with  most  of  the  interesting  aod  torching  anecdotes  that 
!«re  have  related  in  the  course  of  this  history.    The  deposi- 
jtions  of  roost  of  the  other  witnassei  referred  to  miracles  ob- 
tained through  her  iuterccssion  ;  amongst  the  immense  nqin- 
ber  reported,  we  remark  the  resuscitation  of  sttveral  persons 
from   the  dead.     An   hundred  and  twenty -nine  cases  were 
judged  the  worthiest  of  being  transcribed  and  forv  ^rded  to 
RoMie,  after  having  been  read  and  sealed  by  the  Bishop  of 
Hildesheim  and  the  other  Prelates  and  Abbots.    The  Abbot 
B<  rnard  de  Buch,  Salomon  Magnus,  a  Dominican,  and  Bro- 
ther Conrad  of  the  Teutonic  Order,  formerly  Landgrave  and 
Ibrother-inhlaw  of  the  Saint,  were  appointed  to  bring  to  the 
Pope  the  rc>8alt  of  this  examination,  as  well  as  of  that  made 
ittirce  years  before  by  MoHter  Conrad.    They  were  at  the 
Uine  time  the  bearers  of  letters  firom  a  great  anmber  of 
iBi^shops,  Abbots,  Princea,  Prinoeasea,  and  nobles  of  every  d» 
mee,  who  humbly  requested  the  common  Father  of  the  faith- 
libl,  to  confirm  her  right  to  veneration  on  earth  who  had  already 
[received  the  felicitations  of  the  angels,  and  not  to  suffer  the 
mm  tiame  of  celestial  charity,  enkindled  by  the  hand  of  (Jod 
Iio  serve  as  an  example  te  the  world,  to  be  obscured  by  the  viip 
Lurs  of  contempt,  or  extini^uiahed  by  the  scoffing  of  h  nosy. 


IIFI    or    IT.    BLIIABBTB, 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 


■OW  THl  DIAR  ST.  BLIZABXTn  WAB  OANOBTZBD  BT  POPS  ORFoort 
▲  BD  TUB  GREAT  JOY  AND  TKMBUATION  OF  TUB  FAITlin  I  H 
GERMANY  ON  TUB  OCOABlOif  OF  TUB  BXALTATION  OF  UBi:  hlL* 
108  AT  MARBURG. 

**  AoooDtUvcmat  oall  JtutltUtn  ^ui,  at  vldcrant  omnai  popall  glorUm  rjiii^" 

Pa.  xo»l 

''Mlbl  aaMia  nlmtt  booorifloatl  •ant,  amid  tol,  Dens." 

/>«.  oxxzil.  11 


In  the  spring-time  of  the  year  1235,  the  Pope  was  at  Porn- 
gia,  iu  the  same  city  where  sevea  years  before  he  had  catiou- 
ized  St.  Francis  of  Assisium,  when  the  penitent  Conrad 
with  the  other  messengers  presented  themselves  before  him  to 
request  that  he  would  inscribe  amongst  the  blessed  ones  of 
Heaven,  and  beside  the  seraphic  father,  the  young  and  imiu- 
ble  woman,  who  had  been  in  Qermany  his  first-born  Miuorite 
child,  and  the  most  ardent  of  his  disciples.  Their  arrival 
made  a  great  impression  on  the  clergy  and  the  people. 

The  Pontifif  opened  their  despatches  in  presence  of  the 
Cardinals,  of  the  principal  prelates  of  the  Roman  court,  and 
of  a  number  of  the  clergy  who  had  come  to  listen  to  them  ;  be 
commnnicated  all  the  details  transmitted  of  the  life  of  Eliza- 
beth and  of  the  miracles  attributed  to  her.  They  were  great Ij 
surprised,  we  are  informed,  arid  affected  even  to  tears  by  so 
much  humility,  so  much  love  of  the  poor  and  of  poverty,  so 
many  wonders  wrought  by  grace  from  on  high.  Neyertheicss 
the  Pope  resolved  to  use  the  greatest  vigilance  and  severity  in 
tne  examination  of  these  miracles  ;  he  proceeded  to  it  with  the 
cautiousness  which  characterized  him,  and  scrupulously  oi> 


07  nv99A%r, 


set 


irrvrd  all  the  formal itios  required  to  diwipatc  even  the  leait 
fliHdow  of  doubt.  The  care  and  exactness  wliich  were  awd 
in  this  di8ca<»ion  were  so  remarkable,  that  it  merited  to  be 
(itcd  08  a  model  after  the  lapse  of  five  centuries,  by  Benedict 
XIV.,  one  of  the  mo:<t  illustrious  succefoors  of  Gregory  IX. 
All  these  precautions,  however,  served  but  to  render  the  truth 
more  i/icontestible  and  brilliant ;  the  more  severe  was  the  ex* 
aiiiiraricn  in  respect  to  facta  and  persons,  the  more  complete 
was  c^eir  certainty  shown  ;  and  to  use  the  language  of  con- 
trmporary  writers,  the  ploughshare  of  a|)Ostolic  authority  io 
passiug  over  this  yet  unexplored  field,  brought  to  light  an 
imme'ise  treasure  of  sanctity  ;  and  it  was  plainly  seen  that  the 
liand  of  the  Lord  had  guided  the  dear  Elizabeth  through  the 
buffetings  of  the  tempestuous  waves  of  earthly  tribulation,  and 
landed  her  upon  the  shoi*e  of  eternal  repose. 

In  a  Consistory  presided  over  by  the  sovereign  Pontiff,  and 
at  which  assisted  the  Patriarchs  of  Antioch  and  Jerusalem, 
and  a  great  number  of  Cardinals,  the  officially-authenticated 
documents  on  the  life  and  sanctity  of  Elizabeth  were  read  ; 
and  all  with  one  accord  declared  that,  without  delay,  her  glo- 
rious name  should  be  inscribed  in  the  catalogue  of  the  saints 
on  earth,  as  it  was  already  written  in  the  Book  of  Life,  as 
bad  been  wonderfully  proved  by  the  Lord  Himself. 

This  history  was  also  read  to  the  people,  whose  piety  was 
profoundly  affected  by  it,  and  who,  filled  with  admiration, 
cried  ont,  "Canonization,  Most  holy  Father,  Canonization. 
an*d  that  without  delay."  The  Pope  required  no  further  pre» 
sing  to  yield  to  this  wonderful  unanimity,  and  to  give  more 
splendour  to  the  ceremony  of  canonization  he  decided  that  it 
should  take  place  on  Pentecost  day,  (26th  May,  1235). 

Duke  Conrad,  whose  zeal  was  redoubled  by  the  success  of 
his  efforts,  engaged  to  make  all  the  preparations  necessary  fSor 
this  imposing  solemnity. 

The  day  of  the  great  feast  having  srriTed,  the  Pope,  «^ 
16 


ii 


:l.<  ,» 


^•03 


LirK    or    8T.    SLIZABKTB, 


i! 


•![| 


I  ...1. 


*coitrpaDiod  by  tho  patriarchs,  cwdiimls,  and  prdates,  and  foV 
lowed  by  several  thousand  people,  with  the  sound  of  tiuiiii»cu| 
and  other  instrutnenta  of  music,  walked  in  procession  to  tii^j 
convent  of  the  Dominicans  at  Perugia;  every  one,  from  the' 
Pope  to  iJtie  lowest  of  the  people,  earned  tapers  which  the 
Idindgrave  had  provided  &t  his  own  expense. 

Hie  procession  entered  the  Church,  and  the  preparatoi-y 

'-ceremonies  having  been  performed,  the  Cardinal  Beacon,  &s- 
fiisiant  of  the  Pone,  read  in  a  loud  voice  for  the  ^ithful,  an 

^Hccount  of  the  liie  and  miracles  of  Elisabeth,  in  the  midst  of 
the  acclamations  of  the  people,  and  the  torrents  of  tears  of 
holy  joy  and  pious  enthusiasm  which  flowed  from  the  eyes  of 
tltesd  fervent  Christians,  happy  in  counting  thns  a  new  and 
powerful  friend  in  Heaven.  After  this,  the  Pope  requester' 
all  present  to  join  him  in  praying  that  God  would  not  permit 
them  to  T)e  deceived  in  this  matter.  When  every  one  was 
kneeling  the  Pope  entoned  the  Veni  Creator  Spiritus,  which 
w'as  all  sung  by  the  assembly.  When  the  hymn  was  termi- 
nated the  Cardinal  Deacon  at  the  Pope's  right  hand  said,  Flee- 
tarrms  genua^  and  then  his  Holiness  and  all  the  people  knelt 

>^ttnd  prayed  during  a  certain  time  ;  then  the  Cardinal  on  the 
left  said,  Levate,  and  ail  arose.  The  Pope  was  ^throned 
and  assumed  the  mitre,  then  he  declared  £3izabeth  a  Saint  in 
the  fbllowing  '^ords : 

"  In  honour  of  the  Almighty  God,  the  Father  and  the  Son 
•ad  the  Holy  Ghost,  for  the  exaltation  of  the  Catholic  Faith 
and  the  increase  of  the  Christian  religion,  by  the  authority  of 
the  same  omnipotent  God,  by  that  of  the  blessed  Apostles, 
Pet^r  and  Paul,  and  by  our  own,  we  declare  and  define  that 
Elizabeth  of  happy  memory,  in  her  life-time  Duchess  of  Tim- 
'  ringia,  is  a  saint,  atid  should  be  mscribed  in  the  catalogue  of 
the  s&ints.  We  insert  her  name  there  onrselres,  and  at  the 
same  time  ordain  that  the  Universal  Chorch  celebrate  hrr 
FeMt  "and  Office  with  4ile  sdlcmnitj  «nd  devotion,  every  yeaf 


I'i 


or  avvoABT. 


8«i 


i  1^  11 


•u  tie  ftnoiTenary  daj  of  her  death,  the  18tb  of  the  Rate^di 
of  December.  And  in  additioD,  by  the  same  authority,  we 
grant  to  all  the  faithfal,  who  with  true  contrition  shall  have 
confessed  their  sins  and  shall  visit  her  tomb  on  that  day,  ar 
indulgence  of  one  yeai*  and  forty  days.^ 

The  soond  of  organs  and  the  peal  of  bells  hailed  the  last 
worda  of  the  Pontiff,  who  having  soon  after  laid  down  hit 
mitre  entoned  the  canticle  of  joy,  Te  Deum  UtudamMs^  which 
was  song  by  the  congregation  with  harmony  and  entbosiasm 
sufficient  to  ascend  even  to  the  Beavens.  A  Cardinal  Deacon 
at  its  conclusion  said  in  a  loud  voice  : 

On  pro  nobis  Sanete  Elisabeth.   AUelnlal 

and  the  Pope  channted  the  collect  or  prayer,  which  he  ha4 
himself  composed  in  honour  of  the  new  saint.  Then  the  Car- 
dinid  Deacon  said  the  Confiteor^  inserting  therein  the  name  of 
Elizabeth  immediately  after  those  of  tiie  Apostles;  and  the 
Pope  gave  the  usual  absolntioia  and  benediction,  making  men- 
tion of  her  when  commemorating  the  merits  and  prayers  ol 
the  Saints.  The  solemn  Mass  was  then  celebrated ;  at  the  Of- 
fertory three  of  the  Cardinal  Judges  laid  on  the  Altar  suc- 
cessively, the  mystical  oblations  of  tapei-s,  bread,  and  wine ; 
with  two  turtle-doves,  as  emblems  of  the  contemplative  and 
solitary  life,  and  two  doves  representing  the  active,  but  pore 
and  faithful  life,  and  finally,  a  cage  ftiH  of  little  birds,  which 
were  set.  at  liberty  as  symbols  of  the  aspirings  of  holy  soulff 
to  God. 

In  the  same  convent  of  the  Dominicans  at  Perngia,  where 
this  ceremony  had  taken  place,  a  new  Altar  was  erected  in 
hononr  of  the  Saint,  to  which  the  Sovereign  PontifiT  attached 
the  privilege  of  an  indulgence  of  thirty  days  for  all  who  came 
to  pray  there.  This  was  then  the  first  place  where  tlie  vene 
ration  of  the  dear  St.  Elizabeth  was  officially  celebrated,  and 
ever  after  the  religious  of  that  convent  honoured  her  feaet 


Sd4 


LIFE    or    ST.    ILIZABETU, 


day  by  great  solemnities,  and  by  cbaonting  her  uflioc  with 
tbe  same  melodies  used  in  that  of  their  holy  father,  St. 
Dominic. 

To  increase  the  joy  of  this  so  happy  day,  the  good  Duke 
Conrad  invited  to  his  own  table  three  hundred  religious,  and 
sent  an  abundance  of  bread,  wine,  fish,  eggs,  milk,  kc.  to 
several  convents  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  particularly  to 
those  of  the  poor  Clares,  to  whom  the  new  Saint  seemed  to  be 
to  special  Patroness  in  Heaven,  after  having  been  their  rival 
upon  earth  ;  he  also  distributed  to  several  thousaud  poor  peo- 
ple, in  fact  to  all  who  sought  relief,  meat,  bread,  wine  and 
money,  not  in  his  own  name,  but  in  that  of  the  Teutonic  Or- 
dci',  and  especially  in  honour  of  her  who  had  ever  been  to  the 
poor  a  prodigal  in  generosity. 

It  was  certainly  the  best  way  to  do  her  homage  that  wliiih 
would  most  surely  have  brought  a  smile  to  her  benign  lips 
We  may  imagine,  with  pleasurable  emotion,  the  gladness  of 
these  poor  mendicants,  to  many  of  whom  the  renown  of  the 
royal  and  holy  stranger  was  manifested  in  so  benevolent  a 
manner.  Conrad's  generosity  so  pleased  the  Pope  that  he 
invited  him  to  his  own  table,  which  was  a  great  distinction, 
made  him  sit  by  his  side,  and  directed  that  all  his  attendants 
should  be  treated  magnificently.  When  he  took  leave  in 
order  to  return  to  Germany,  the  Pope  granted  all  the  favours 
he  requested  for  persons  whose  petitions  were  long  under  con- 
Bideration.  Then  he  gave  his  Papal  benediction,  and  when 
embracing  him  shed  many  tears. 

On  the  first  of  June,  1235,  the  Pope  published  the  Ball  of 
Canonizrtion,  which  was  immediately  forwarded  to  all  the 
Princes  and  Bishops  of  the  Church. 

The  following  translation,  with  some  corrections,  is  that 
pven  by  Father  AppolUnaris  in  his  history,  page  51ft 


'1 


OF    HUNOABT. 


"Gregory,  servant  of  thb  servants  or  Odd. 

"To  all  the  Archbishops,  Bishops,  Abbots,  Priors,  Arch- 
"deacons,  Priests,  and  other  prelates  of  the  Church  by  whom 
*'  these  letters  shall  be  received.     Health. 

"Tli«  infinite  Majesty  of  the  Son  of  God,  Jesus  Christ, 
"  the  sweet  Saviour  and  Redeemer  of  our  souls,  considering 
"  from  the  highest  Heavens  the  original  nobleness  and  excel- 
"  lence  of  our  condition,  now  disfigured  and  corrupted  by  the 
"  sin  of  our  first  parents,  and  by  a  multiplicity  of  miseries, 
"  vices  and  crimes,  touched  with  compassion  for  His  dearest 
"  creature,  resolved  to  exert  His  omnipotent  mercy,  to  deliver 
"  mankind  seated  in  the  shadow  of  death,  and  to  recall  poor 
"exiles  to  the  country  of  blessed  liberty,  judging  it  most 
"  reasonable  in  His  divine  and  infinite  wisdom,  that  as  it  is 
"  the  duty  of  a  workman  who  has  commenced  some  master- 
"  piece  to  perfect  it,  and  if  through  misfortune  it  should  be- 
"  come  decayed  and  lose  its  lustre,  to  repair  and  restore  it  to 
"  its  first  form  ;  so  to  Him  beyond  all  others  did  it  belong  to 
"  redeem  and  to  renew  the  original  dignity  of  His  fallen  crea- 
"  ture.  With  these  designs  He  entered  the  narrow  womb  of 
"  the  most  holy  Virgin,  (if  we  can  call  that  narrow  which 
"was  sufficient  to  contain  Him  who  was  liniute,)  from  His 
"  Heavenly  throne  He  entered  and  concealed  Himself  within 
"  the  virginal  body  of  His  most  blessed  mother.  He  there  as- 
"sumed  the  weak^l^ss  of  our  nature,  nwd  from  invisible  that 
"  He  was.  He  became  visible  ;  by  the  adorable  mystery  of  the 
"  incarnation.  He  tramples  on,  and  overcomes  the  Prince  of 
"  darkness.  He  triumphs  over  his  malice  by  the  glorious  re- 
"  demption  of  the  human  race,  and  points  out  to  His  faithful 
'  by  His  divine  instructions  a  certain  path  by  which  they  can 
'  regain  their  true  country. 

"  The  blessed  and  gracious  Elizabeth,  of  royal  birth,  and  by 
^alliance  Duchess  of  Thuringia,  considering  with  atttentioi 


a0» 


LIFE    or    Sf.    ILISABSTR, 


"and  wisely  nnderatanding  this  admirable  economj  of  oni 
**  salvation,  coorageoualy  resoired  to  follow  the  footsteps  of 
"  the  Saviour,  apd  to  Laboar  with  all  her  strength  in  the 
"practice  of  virtue  ;  in  order  to  rendt^r  herself  worthy  to  ha 
"  illumined  with  the  eternal  Light,  from  the  dawning  of  hi  r 
**  life  until  its  evening,  she  nev^r  ceased  to  rtyoice  in  tiie  (!<>• 
"  lights  of  celestial  love,  and  with  supernatural  fervour  .sh^ 
'*  employed  all  the  powers  of  her  heart  to  love  solely  ami 
"sovereignly  Jesu^  Christ,  our  Sayionr,  who  being  true  G(j(l 
"  and  true  eternal  Son  of  Godt  became  man  and  Son  of  the 
**  blessed  Virgin,  Queen  of  angels  and  of  men  ;  a  most  puro 
**  and  ardent  love  which  replenished  her  with  an  abundanco 
*'of  heavenly  sweetness,  and  imparted  to  her  the  divine 
^  favours  which  are  bestowed  at  the  bauquet  of  the  adorable 
"  Lamb. 

"  And  being  enlightened  with  this  same  inejGfable  clarity  aud 
"  acting  as  a  true  child  of  the  Gospel,  she  saw  In  the  person 
"  of  her  neighbour  this  divine  Jesus,  the  only  object  of  her 
"  uffectior.  she  loved  Him  with  so  admirable  a  charity  that 
"•  her  delight  was  to  see  herself  surrounded  by  the  poor,  to 
"live  and  converse  with  them;  she  most  dearly  cherislieu 
"  those  whose  misery  and  disgusting  maladies  rendered  them 
"  most  horrible,  and  whose  appearance  would  be  sufficient  to 
"  terrify  the  strongest  hearts  in  the  world  :  she  so  charitably 
*'  distributed  all  her  wealth  amongst  them  that  she  left  herself 
"  poor  and  indigent  to  supply  all  things  necessary  for  them  in 
*'  abundance.  She  was  but  of  that  youthful  age  when  chil- 
"  dren  still  require  instr actors,  and  already  she  was  the  good 
*'  mother,  the  guardian  and  protectress  of  the  poor,  and  her 
"  heart  was  full  of  compassion  for  their  sufferings. 

"  Having  learned  that  the  supreme  Judge  would  in  His 
**  last  sentence  make  particular  commemoration  of  the  services 
''  done  Him,  and  that  the  entrance  to  eternal  glory  was,  in  a 
"  manner,  at  the  disposal  of  the  poor,  she  entertained  sucb 


to"-' 

••  of  h 

"  self 

"  sati 

"  thii 

"  abl 

"  cha 

«»«!. 

(( 


tt 


aw  auKaukET. 


»n 


I 


'  an  esteem  for  their  condition,  and  «tro?e  with  so  much  a»- 
"  sidaity  to  conciliate  the  aflTection  and  faTOur  of  those  whom 
"  people  of  her  raitk  usually  regard  as  contemptible  and  in- 
"  supportable,  that  not  alone  content  with  gi?iDg  thorn  olinf 
**from  her  abundant  riches,  exlioostin,^  her  granories,  ii«r 
"  coffers,  and  her  purae  to  help  them,  she  also  reuoiukoed  the 
"  use  of  all  delicacies  prepared  for  her  noarisliment,  and  ri« 
'*  gorously  macerated  her  frail  body  by  fasting  and  the  pongs 
"  of  hunger  that  they  might  fare  better  ;  she  constrained  her- 
"  self  to  a  perpetual  parsimony  that  they  might  be  more  fully 
"  satiated,  and  she  practised  an  increasing  austerity  that  all 
"  things  might  be  more  easy  to  them  ;  virtues  the  more  laud- 
"able  and  meritorious,  as  they  proceeded  from  her  pure 
"  charity  and  abundant  devotion,  without  being  constrained 
"  or  obliged  to  perform  them  by  any  person. 

"  What  more  can  I  say  to  you  of  her  ?  This  noUe  prin- 
"  cess,  renouncing  all  the  pleasures  that  nature  and  her  rank 
"afforded  her,  and  uniting  all  her  de^sires  into  the  single  wish 
"of  pleasing  and  serving  God,  during  the  lifetime  of  the 
"  prince  her  husband,  with  his  permission  and  retention  of  his 
"  rights  over  her,  she  promised  and  preserved  a  most  faithful 
"  obedience  to  her  confessor. 

"  But  after  the  deceaf?c  of  her  konoared  8}>ouse,  esteeming 
"  the  good  life  she  had  led  up  to  that  period  as  still  imperfect, 
^'  she  assumed  the  holy  habit,  and  lived  the  remainder  of  her 
**  days  as  a  most  perfect  religious,  honouring  by  her  state  and 
"  continual  prayers  the  sacred  and  adorable  mystorica  of  the 
"  death  and  bitter  passion  of  our  Sftviour.  0  blessed  woman  ! 
**  0  admirable  lady  !  0  sweet  Elizabeth  !  Most  justly  did 
*^  this  name,  which  signifies  being  filled  with  God,  suit  yon, 
"since  yen  sc  frequently  satiated  the  poor  creatures  who  are 
"  tite  images  and  representatives  of  Qod,  seeing  that  the?  ar« 
"  the  dear  .raerabera  of  His  divine  Son. 

"  You  have  most  justly  merited  to  receive  the  bread  ai 


.^■^ 


)I<I8 


LIFI    OF    ST.    IlIZABCTR, 


;     i. 


hiihv 


"  angels,  since  jon  so  often  ministered  to  the  angels  and  te^ 
"  restrial  messengers  of  the  King  of  Hearen. 

"  O  blessed  and  most  noble  widow !  more  fmitfnl  in 
"  grace,  than  daring  jonr  bononrable  marriage  you  had  brcn 
"in  children,  you  sought  that  strenj^h  in  virtue  whid' 
'*  nature  seems  to  deny  to  woman,  and  became  a  valiant  war- 
''  rior  against  the  enemies  of  our  salvation.  You  have  con- 
"  qnered  them  with  the  buclcler  of  Faith,  as  the  Apostle  snys, 
"  with  the  armour  of  Justice,  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  and  of 
'*  fervonr,  the  Helmet  of  salvation,  and  the  Lance  of  perse" 
'*  veranco. 

*'  Thus  most  amiable  did  this  dear  Elizabeth  render  herself 
•*  to  her  immortal  Spouse,  always  united  to  the  Queen  of  ^ir- 
"  gins  by  the  heartfelt  aflFeetion  she  had  for  her  service,  and 
"  by  the  alliance  of  perfect  conformity,  following  her  exami)Ie 
•'  she  bowed  down  her  highness  to  the  works  of  a  most  hum* 
**  ble  servant ;  thus  did  she  also  resemble  her  good  patroness 
"  Elizabeth  whose  name  she  bore,  and  the  venerable  Zachary, 
"  by  W8  Iking  simply  and  without  reproach  in  the  ways  of  God, 
"  preserving  with  affection  the  grace  of  God  in  her  inmost 
"  soul ;  bringing  it  forth  and  manifesting  it  exteriorly  by  holy 
"  actions  and  continual  good  works  ;  increasing  and  nourish- 
"ing  it  by   the  constant  acquisition   of  virtues,  she   thus 
'*'  merited  at  the  close  of  her  days  to  be  received  lovingly  by 
*'  Hiifl,  in  whom  alone  we  should  put  all  our  trust,  and  who 
*'  has  reserved  for  Himself  the  wonderful  power  of  exaltinsf 
"  the  innocent  and  tlie  horible,  and  who  delivered  her  from  the 
**  bonds  of  death  to  place  her  on  a  throne  brilliant  with  light 
^'inaccessible.     But  while  in  the  midst  of  the  delights  and 

riches  of  the  eternal  empire,  triumphant  in  the  company  of 

the  saints  and  angels,  her  spirit  rejoices  in  the  presence  of 
"  God,  and  shines  with  splendour  in  the  abyss  of  supreme 
•'  glory  ;  her  charity  has,  as  it  were,  made  her  descend  from 
^  that  throne  to  enlighten  us  who  live  in  this  world^s  dark' 


41 


«< 


07    BUirOABT. 


9«t 


■  r  f>sis  ap  J  to  console  nn  by  a  ^eat  number  of  miracles,  br 
"virtue  of  which  good  Catholics  are  confirmed  and  in- 
creased in  Faith,  in  Hope,  and  in  Charity,  infidels  art 
"illumined  and  informed  of  the  true  way  of  sahation,  and 
"liardened  heretics  cover  their  faces  with  shame  and  confu* 
"sion.  ' 

*'  For  the  enemies  of  the  Church  seeing  before  their  eyes, 
"are  unable  to  deny,  that  by  the  merits  of  her,  who,  while 
"in  the  prison  of  the  flesh,  was  a  lover  of  poverty,  full 
"of  sweetness  and  mercy,  who  wept  frequently  not  only 
"tor  her  own  sins,  bat  through  an  excess  of  charity  for 
"those  of  others,  who  hungered  af^er  justice,  who  led  a 
"most  pure  and  innocent  life,  and  who  in  the  continual  per- 
"socution  and  opprobrium  by  which  she  was  assailed,  pre' 
"  that  by  the  earnest  invocation  of  this  faithful  spouse  of 
"Jesus  Christ,  the  dead  are  miraculously  restored  to  life, 
"  light  is  given  to  the  blind,  hearing  to  the  deaf,  speech  to 
"  the  dumb,  and  the  lame  are  enabled  to  walk.  Thus  the 
"  miserable  heretics,  full  of  rage  and  envy,  notwithstanding 
"  their  fury  and  the  poison  wherewith  they  would  infect  all 
"  Germany,  are  forced  to  behold  in  this  same  country  the* 
"  religion  which  they  would  fain  eradicato,  arising  gloriously, 
"  and  with  unspeakable  joy  triumphu,-  over  their  malice  and 
"  impiety. 

"  These  wonders  liaving  been  attested  before  us,  and 
"supported  by  iueontestible  proofs,  with  the  advice  of  our 
"  brethren  the  venerable  patriarchs,  Archbishops  and  Bishops, 
"  and  other  prelates  at  our  conrt  assembled,  according  to  the 
'*  duty  of  our  office,  which  obligei  ns  to  watch  diligently  ovef 
*'  all  that  tends  to  the  greatc;  glory  of  our  Saviour,  we  have 
"  inscribed  Elizabeth  in  the  catalogue  of  the  saints,  and 
**  enjoin  yon  to  cause  her  feast  to  be  celebrated  solemnly  os 
"  the  thirteenth  day  of  the  Kalends  of  December,  being  tha< 
16* 


I 
I 


mo 


LIFE    07    ST.    UlItADITR, 


*'on  which  she  burst  the  foondn  of  death,  and  was  ndmitttdl 
"  to  the  fonntain  of  anprenw  delight«  :  that  by  hor  iiiti  << . 
"  sion  we  may  obtain  what  she  already  obtained  from  Christ, { 
**  aiid  which  she  wiH  giorioosly  enjoy  for  eternity.  Anrl  ali^o, 
"  to  employ  the  power  which  it  committed  io  us  from  ()i 
**  High  to  enable  the  universal  faithful  to  taste  of  tlie>'  d.^ 
"lights  of  the  in  visible  court,  and  to  eznlt  the  name  of  tli<> 
"  Almighty  by  causing  Ilim  to  be  honoured  by  the  crmnds 
"who  will  come  to  the  venerated  sepulchre  of  His  si>ou?o, 
"  full  of  confidence  in  the  mercy  of  the  Omnipotent,  liy  {\w 
"authority  of  the  blessed  Apostles  Peter  and  PhuI,  wc 
"  bounteously  grant  an  indulgence  of  one  year  and  forty  days 
"  to  all  those  pious  men  and  women,  who  having  wort)ii]y 
"  confessed  their  sins  with  contrition  shall  come  there  on  her 
"  festival-day,  and  during  its  Octave  to  offer  their  prayers  and 
"supplications. 

"  Given  at  Perugia,  in  the  Kalends  of  June,  in  the  Ninth 
"  year  of  our  Pontificate." 

Scarcely  had  this  bull  been  published,  when  the  Pope 
seems  to  have  been  anxious  to  express  his  love  and  admiin- 
tion  for  the  new  saint  in  a  still  more  special  manner.  In 
seeking  some  one  to  whom  he  could  address  himself  to  iin- 
burthc^u  his  heart  of  the  emotions  with  which  it  was  filled,  he 
thought  of  writing  to  a  sovereign  whom  he  cherished  on 
account  of  her  piety  and  devotion  to  the  holy  see  :  this  was 
Beatrice,  daughter  of  Philip,  King  of  the  Romans,  and  wife 
to  Ferdinand  III.,  king  of  Castile  and  Leon,  since  canonized. 
On  the  "ith  of  June,  the  Pontiff  directed  to  her  a  long  epistk-, 
wherein  1h3  praised  the  virtues  of  Elixabcth,  and  in  MU|tp)>rt 
of  them  quoted  many  scriptural  texts.  "  During  these  pa^t 
days,"  writes  he,  "  there  has  been  pres^ted  to  us,  accordins* 
to  the  expression  of  Jesus  son  of  Sirach,  an  admirable  vessel^ 
ili«  work  of  tJi€  Most  High,  destined  to  serve  as  a  ftumace  of 
charity  by  the  ardour  of  its  good  works.     This  vessel  <A 


or    BUHOAVV 


m 


ilectioi,  oopieoiatod  to  the  Lord,  it  no  other  thtm  St  ESim- 
btUi,  whose  name  int<rrpretedi  signiflcis  Satiety  tf  0«d^  hecauft 
»h<-  oilea  MUftfled  God  in  the  per»ORi  of  the  po<jf  and  the 


111- 


k. 


'^  She  DouYivhod  the  Lord  with  three  loaves  which  she  bof> 
iow<^^  from  her  friend  in  the  night  of  her  trlbnlfttion — the* 
bn-Hd  of  tmth,  the  bff«ad  of  chanty,  and  the  bread  of  courage. 

*  *  ♦  •  ♦  Thia  Elizabeth,  »o  great  a  lover  of  the  eternal 
felicity,  served  to  the  table  of  the  Master  of  Heaven  and 
tarth  three  precious  viands,  in  renouncing  all  He  foil  ids,  in 
obeying  all   He  ordains,  in  accomplishing  all  He  counsels, 

•  *  ♦  •  •  Yes,  she  is  truly  one  of  whom  it  is  written,  an 
admirable  vessel^  the  ijoorh  of  tht  Most  Bigk. — A  vessel  adrai« 
rable  by  the  virtue  of  her  humility^  the  lowliness  of  hur  body, 
the  tenderness  of  her  compassion,  which  shall  be  admired 
throughout  all  ages  1  Oh  v  issel  of  election,  vessel  of  mercy  I 
Tlion  hast  offered  to  the  tyrants  and  to  the  great  ones  of  this 
world  the  wine  of  trne  compunction!  Behold,  from  amotigst 
them,  already  one,  thy  brother  Conrad,  lately  Landgrave, 
still  young  and  beloved  by  the  world,  whom  thou  hast  so 
inebriated  with  this  sacred  drink,  that  forsaking  all  dignities, 
and  renonncing  all,  even  to  his  tonic,  he  has  escaped,  as  it 
were,  naked,  from  the  hands  of  those  who  crucify  the  Saviour 
and  taken  refuge  under  the  shadow  of  the  Cross,  which  sacred 
irnl  he  has  impressed  upon  his  heart.  Again,  behold  thy 
Bister,  the  virgin  Agnes,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Bohemia, 
who  in  her  so  tender  age  fled  from  the  imperial  magnificence 
as  from  a  venomous  reptile,  and,  seizing  the  triumphant  banner 
of  the  Cross,  walks  before  her  spouse,  accompanied  by  a  train 
of  consecrated  virgins.  Work  of  the  M«»st  High  t  a  new 
wdiiderwhiehthe  liOrd  has  wrought  upon  the  earth,  since  Rt 
KlizulHjth  enshrined  Jchiis  (thrist  in  her  heart  slnee,  by  her 
love,  she  conceived  and  brought  Hlin  to  the  world  iit|ii  iioar- 
b^hed  Him.    The  Devil,  our  enemy,  raised  two  great  walli  t« 


S78 


LIFE    OV    ST.     BLIZABKTfl. 


bide  from  oar  eyca  the  splendour  of  th«  eternal  Li^ht :  thf«m; 
arc,  the  ignorance  of  om*  minds  and  the  eoncupiscrefitc;  of  lii.ji 
fle«h.  But  Si  KlixalKith,  tuking  refuge  in  her  humility,  o\.r 
threw  the  wall  of  ignorance,  and  levelled  the  bariers  of  j^nd^ 
•0  as  to  enjoy  ihe  inuccessihle  Light ;  she  uprooted  (.onrui.iv 
cence  from  her  soul,  and  perfectly  detached  her  heart  froin  all 
terrestrial  affection,  the  more  surely  to  gain  the  only  true  ami 
divine  Love. 

"  Already  has  she  been  Introduced  by  the  Virg  .i  Mother 
of  God  to  the  couch  of  her  heavenly  Spouse.  She  is  hi.  8>(  d 
amongst  all  women,  and  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  incflul^le 
glory;  an»?  whilst  the  Church  triumphant  rejoices  in  her  pro?. 
ence,  she  glorifies  the  Church  militant  by  the  splendour  of  lier 
miracles. 

"  Most  dear  daughter  in  Jesus  Christ,  we  have  wished  t: 
place  before  thee  the  example  of  St.  Elizabeth,  as  a  rnosi 
precious  pearl,  for  two  reasons  :  first,  that  thou  mayest  often 
look  into  it  as  into  a  spotless  mirror,  in  order  to  discover 
whether  an}  thing  is  hidden  in  thy  conscience  that  could  ofTcml 
the  cvfs  >f  tha  divine  Majesty;  again,  that  nothing  should  be 
wanted  to  tlsee  that  is  necessary  for  the  beautifying  of  a  bride 
of  Heaven ;  and  finally,  that  when  thou  shalt  be  invited  to 
appear  before  Assuerus,  that  is  the  eternal  King,  He  may  Gmi 
thee  adorned  with  all  virtues  and  clothed  with  good  works. 

"  Given  at  Perugia,  the  Tth  of  the  Ides  of  June,  in  the 
Ninth  year  of  our  Pontificate." 

The  bull  of  canonization  soon  arrived  in  Germany  and  was 
received  with  enthusiasm.  It  appears  that  it  was  first  pub- 
lished at  Erfurth,  where  on  the  occasion  a  festival  of  ten  days 
was  observed,  and  numerous  distributions  of  alms  were  made 
to  the  poor.  The  Archbishop  Sigefrid  of  Mayence  fixed  a  day 
for  the  exaltation  and  translation  of  the  body  of  the  Saint, 
which  did  not  take  place  until  the  following  spring,  in  ordei 
to  give  the  Bisiiops  and  the  faithful  of  Germany  time  to  come 


•    i 


or     nCNOART. 


87S 


to  Marburg  to  assist  at  tl»e  ccreraony.  Tlie  first  day  of 
May  W118  that  appointed  for  its  celebration.  On  it«  approach 
ttii'  little  city  of  Marburg  and  its  environs  wore  tlironjred  by 
RH  immense  concourse  of  people  of  all  ranks  ;  if  we  are  to  be- 
lieve contemporary  historians,  twelve  hundred  thousand  Chri*- 
*iuns,  united  by  faith  and  fervour,  assembled  before  the  tomb 
of  the  humble  Elizabeth. 

All  nations  and  tongues  were  there  repro8entc»d.  Several 
pilgrims  of  both  sexes  came  from  Franf  from  Bohemia  and 
from  her  native  land,  the  distant  T^  All  united  in 

raying  that  for  centmies  no  such  cru  on  8e»^u  as  thai 

wliicli  came  to  honour  the  dear  Si,  Eh 

All  the  royal  family  of  Thuringia  were  pn  sent,  the  Dnchcsa 
Sophia,  her  mother-in-law,  with  the  Dukes  Henery  and  Con- 
rad, all  anxious  to  expiate  by  this  solemn  homage  the  injuries 
^vhieh  she  had  so  nobly  forgiven  them.  Her  four  little  children 
were  also  there,  with  on  inmense  number  of  princes,  nobles, 
priests,  religious  and  prelates.  Amongst  these  were,  besides 
Sigefrid  of  Mayence,  who  presided  at  the  ceremony,  the  Arch- 
l»ishops  of  Cologne,  Treves  and  Bremen  ;  the  Bishops  of  Ham* 
i)urg,  Halberstadt,  Merseburg,  Bamberg,  Worms,  Spires 
Paderborn  and  Hildesheira.  The  Emperor  Frederic  II.,  then 
lit  the  height  of  his  glory,  reconciled  with  the  Pope,  lately 
jiiarried  to  the  young  Isabella  of  Englanu  so  celebrated  for  hei 
beauty,  had  suspended  all  his  occupations  and  military  expe 
ditions,  to  yield  to  the  attraction  which  led  to  Mf»rburg  so 
iiiany  of  his  subjects,  and  he  came  there  to  do  homage  to  her 
» ho  had  lejected  his  hand  to  give  herself  to  God. 

The  Teutonic  knights  having  heard  of  the  arrival  cf  the 
Kinp<^ror,  thought  it  would  be  impossible  to  dLsinter  the  body 
of  iho  Saint  in  hia  presence,  ao  they  resolved  to  anticipate  the 
appointed  time.  Three  days  before  that  fixed,  the  Prior 
lUric,  accompanied  by  seven  of  the  brethren,  enteked  the 
U'iuich  where  she  reposed,  and  after  having  carefully  closed 


f* 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


U 


K<^ 


1.0 


1.1 


la]£2    125 

■  50    ^^"       il^H 

^  U^   12.2 

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23  WIST  MAIN  STMIT 

WIBSTM,N.Y.  145M 

(716)t72-4S03 


^ 


VH 


IIFI    ev    IV.    ILIIABfTB, 


all  tbe  doom,  they  proceeded  to  open  the  nuiH  wberefn  vtu 
ber  tomb. 

Scarcelj  bad  tbe  eoperiDg-itOBe  been  removed  when  n  fie* 
ligbtful  perfume  waa  exhaled  from  her  bleased  remains ;  the 
Doaka  were  penetrated  with  admiration  at  this  sign  of  the 
divine  mercj,  for  they  knew  that  she  bad  been  bnried  with. 
ont  being  embalmed,  or  having  aromatics  or  perfumes  of  nny 
Kind  laid  in  her  tomb.  They  found  the  holy  body  entire 
Mritbout  any  appearance  of  corruption,  though  it  had  I>ef>n 
nearly  five  years  in  the  ground.  The  hands  were  stiH  piously 
loined  in  the  form  of  a  cross  on  her  breast. 

They  said  to  each  other  that  doabtleas  thia  delicate  and 
prceioas  body  suffered  not  the  corruptioa  of  death,  becauso 
doring  life  she  had  never  shrunk  from  any  infection  or  stain, 
ahen  there  was  question  of  relieving  the  poor.  They  tool  i( 
then  from  its  coffin,  enveloped  it  in  a  rich  drapery  of  purph?, 
and  laid  it  in  a  kaden  case  which  they  placed  in  the  vault 
without  sbntting  it  down,  so  that  no  difficulty  should  be  <'n< 
countered  in  removing  it  on  the  day  of  the  ceremony. 

On  the  first  of  May,  before  daybreak,  the  muHitnde 
assembled  aroand  the  Church,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
tbe  flmperor  could  make  his  way  through  them,  so  as  to  reach 
the  int6ri«>r  of  the  building. 

He  seemed  quite  penetrated  with  de? otioit  and  humility  ; 
he  was  barefooted  and  clad  in  an  old  grej  tome,  such  as  that 
tbe  Saint  he  came  to  honour  nsed  to  wear,  but  be  had  en  the 
i^nperial  crown  ;  around  him  were  the  prinees  and  electors  also 
crowned,  and  the  Bishops  and  abbots  with  thehr  mitrea.  Thia 
pomfQus  procession  advanced  to  the  tomb  of  Kiaabeth,  and 
it  was  then,  saya  a  narrator,  that  was  paid  in  glory  and  he- 
noor  to  the  dear  lady  tha  price* of  the  snSerings  and  self-denial 
she  had  endured  in  this  world.  The  Empieror  wished  to  be  the 
first  who  should  descend  to  the  vault  and  lift  the  stone.  The 
lame  pure  and  exquisite  perfume  by  wbiffb  Uie  religions  had 


•F    BOVtAmT. 


9^6 


been  eburffled  and  iarprf^ted,  »f»in  dkhaled  Hflelf,  did 
fcTved  to  kicreine  the  pwlj  of  all  who  were  pre^nU  Tho 
liishops  wished  to  raise  tlir  body  from  its  tomb,  the  Emperui 
assisted  thecn,  and  fervently  knsod  the  oofiifi  when  they  did 
BO.  The  liwliQipft'  seab  w«re  immediately  affixed  to  it,  and  il 
wM  then  solemnly  ouried  by  them  and  the  Emperor  with 
the  «oand  of  mvieal  Intmroeiitfl  and  hymns  of  trfomph  to  the 
place  prepared  for  iti  reception.  The  hearts  of  the  thoofAudi 
who  Burronnded  the  Sttnotaary  burned  with  a  fervent  Impa- 
tience while  expecting  the  coming  of  the  holy  relics,  whi^h 
they  were  anxiouB  to  look  npou,  to  touch,  and  to  kiss  nvie- 
reotly.  "  O  fanppy  hind,''  cried  they,  "  sanctified  by  snch  a 
trost  I  Ooardidn  of  snch  a  treasure  !  0  blessed  time  in  which 
this  treasnre  is  revealed  to  dsP  When  the  procession  en- 
tered  throogfa  the  ranks  of  the  people,  when  they  saw  the 
coffin  bdfne  on  the  shotlders  of  the  Emperor,  of  the  princes 
and  prelates,  when  tHey  breathed  the  sweet  odoar  that  ek- 
haled  from  it,  their  enthnsmsm  became  bonmfless.  "  O  hghl, 
bnt  most  sacred  body,*  cried  they,  "  what  weight  hare  yon 
with  the  Lord,  whiit  power  to  snecoor  men  t  Who  would 
not  be  drawn  to  ygn  by  this  fragrant  petfhme,  who  would 
not  run  after  the  brtihant  tiasietity  and  martellons  beauty  of 
tiiee,  O  hdy  woman  ?  Let  the  heretics  tremble,  and  the 
(terfidions  Jews  be  afraid.  The  faith  of  EHzabeth  has  con- 
fuunded  them.  Behold  her  who  was  called  a  fool,  and  whosf. 
folly  bias  trinmphed  orer  this  world's  wisdom  1  firen  the 
angels  hare  bonohred  the  tomb  ;  and  now,  behold  til  the 
peopfee  gathermg  aronnd  it,  the  nobles  and  the  Roman  Empe- 
ror come  to  Fisit  it.  O  the  wonderful  raerciy  of  the  dithie 
majesty!  Behold  her  who  dnring  her  life  despised  the  gtory 
of  the  worM,  asd  shodued  the  society  of  Ihe  great,  now  h^ 
nonred  lia^ifieentlf  by  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor  I  8hk 
who  elwsys  took  the  iowest  place,  who  eat  upon  the  ground, 
i^bo  slept  in  the  dust,  is  now  exalted,  lifted  up  l»y  rigitt 


sre 


LirS    or    ST.    BLIIADSTH, 


;  i  I    i , 


rojal  hands  t  And  justly  so,  for  she  became  i«6vir  anri  <ioM 
all  she  possessed  to  purciiase  the  priceless  per^l  of  ctrnml 
bliss." 

The  sacred  bodj  having  been  exposed  to  the  Tsneration  of 
the  faithful,  the  Office  was  solemnly  celebrated  in  her  honour, 
the  proper  Mass  of  the  Saint  was  chaunted  by  the  Aicblnslio)) 
of  Mayence.  At  the  Offertory  the  Emperor  approached  the 
shrine,  and  placed  on  the  head  of  the  dear  Tjlizabith  :i 
golden  crown,  saying  :  "Since  in  thy  lifetime  thoa  wouldst 
not  be  crowned  as  my  empress,  I  wish  at  Icist  to  crown 
thee  to^ay  as  an  immortal  Queen  in  the  Kingdom  of  Goil.'^ 

He  also  gave  a  magnificent  gold  cnp  in  which  he  ascd  to 
be  served  at  banquets,  and  then  led  to  the  offering  the  youni,' 
Hermann,  son  of  t>e  Saint ;  the  Empress  conducting  thitliei 
the  little  princesses,  the  two  Sophias  and  Qertrode. 

The  Old  Duchess  Sophia,  with  her  tw )  sons  Henry  and 
Conrad,  also  approached  the  glorified  rei  lains  of  her  whom 
they  had  so  long  slighted,  they  remained  a  considerable  tirae 
in  prayer,  and  made  rich  presents  in  her  honour. 

Tlie  nobility  and  the  people  thronged  around  the  sbrinc  to 
say  prayers  and  to  make  their  offerings. 

The  inhabitants  of  each  country  insisted  upon  sing^      the 
canticles  of  the  Office  in  their  own  languages,  which  prot  ..ted 
.the  ceremonies  for  an  immense  time. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  richness  and  ab<\ndance  of  the 
gifts  which  these  pious  souls  brought  to  the  miracle-famed 
shrine  where  reposed  the  dear  Elizabeth  ;  the  women  left  their 
.rings,  brooches  and  other  jewels  ;  some  persons  already  pre- 
sented chalides,  missals,  and  sacerdotal  requisites  for  the 
stately  and  beautiful  Church,  which  they  insisted  should  be 
immediately  erected  in  her  honour,  "  that  sihe  might  rest  there 
in  a  manner  befitting  her  great  sanctity,  and  that  her  soul 
might  be  more  disposed  to  Invoke  God's  mercies  for  bci 
brethren." 


I*.  '    ■ 


OW    BUltaART, 


877 


But  80011  a  new  wonder  was  perceived  whkJi  still  more  in 
ereosed  the  reneration  of  the  faithful,  and  demonstrated  the 
solicitude  of  the  Lord  for  the  glory  of  His  Holjr  One.  The 
next  morning,  when  the  coffin  containing  the  sacred  bodj, 
and  to  which  had  been  aflEbLed  the  seals  of  the  Bishops,  was 
opened,  they  found  it  full  of  a  pure  and  delicate  oil  which 
^'ave  forth  a  perfume  like  to  that  of  the  most  precious  spik^ 
nard.  This  oil  flowed  drop  by  drop  from  the  relics  of  tha 
Saint,  like  the  bounteous  dew  of  HeaTen ;  and  when  they 
collected  or  wiped  these  drops  away,  there  came  others, 
almost  imperceptibly,  and  forming  a  kind  of  ?apoury  e£ha> 
lation.  At  this  sight  the  clergy  and  the  people  experienced 
an  increase  of  gratitude  towards  the  Omnipotent  Worker  of  so 
many  wonders,  and  of  enthusiasm  towards  her  who  was  their 
object. 

They  understood  at  once,  with  the  penetration  conferred  by 
Faith,  the  symbolic  and  mystic  meaning  of  this  phenomenon. 
"  0  wonderful  miracle,"  said  they,  "  worthy  of  her  and  ro' 
sponsive  to  our  prayers  !  These  limbs,  which  were  worn  by 
so  many  saintly  mortifications,  exh<kle  a  perfume  like  to  thai 
which  would  have  been  shed  from  Saint  Magdalene's  precious 
vase,  had  it  been  broken.  Her  body  distils  a  holy  and  heal* 
ing  oil,  because  her  life  was  passed  in  works  of  mercy  ;  and 
as  oil  floats  over  every  liquid  whereon  it  is  shed,  so  is 
mercy  above  all  the  judgments  of  God.  Tliis  oil  flows 
principally  from  her  feet,  becaose  they  so  frequently  bore  her 
to  the  cabins  of  the  poor,  and  to  every  spot  where  misery 
required  consolation.  This  dear  Elizabeth,  like  a  fair  and 
fruitful  olive-tree,  covered  with  bloom  and  perfumed  with 
virtue,  has  been  endowed  with  the  gifts  of  oil,  to  illumine, 
to  nourish  and  to  cure.  How  many  suffering  bodies,  bow 
many  languishing  souls  has  she  not  healed  by  her  charity  and 
the  example  of  her  sanctity !  How  many  thousand  poor  onei 
kos  she  not  supported  wit^  her  own  bread  I    By  how  maB| 


t 


X7S> 


Liri    Of    tf.    ILIB'ABSTR, 


-if 


prodigies  has  she  not  iUamined  the  Cbareh  !  It  is  then  w':,i 
leason  that  this  sweet  liquid,  this  odorlferoos  oil  apiMsirs  to 
|)fioc1aia  tlte  sanctity  of  her  who  shone  with  so  pufe  a  Rpi<  u- 
dour,  wlo  healed  with  so  ranch  sweetness,  who  fed  the  po.r 
with  so  much  geoerositf,  and  who  throngh  her  whuie  lif** 
eshaled  the  rich  and  (Wtgrant  perAime  of  all  vhrtiies  V* 

This  precioui  oil  was  gathered  with  great  care  and  zeal  liy 
the  people,  aiid  manj  cures  were  effected  by  its  use  in  serious 
niAladies  and  dangerous  woands.  ^  many  celestial  favoui -^i, 
confirmed  by  the  sapreme  snQrage  of  the  Ohorch,  and  tiie 
honours  which  it  had  so-  solenoly  decreed  to  the  new  Saint, 
could  not  but  increase  the  number  and  favour  of  tJle  faithful 
who  visited  her  tomb,  cither  to  augment  thttr  piety,  or  to 
(>eek  relief  in  their  sufferings:  her  glory  was  soon  extended 
throughout  the  Christian  world;  it  attracted  to  Marburg  a 
crowd  of  pilgrims  as  great  as  that  which  all  Europe  contri- 
buted to  send  annually  to  the  tomb  of  St  James  of  Couipos- 
teQa. 

Numerous  miracles  were  worked  in  fitrOur  of  the  humble 
and  fiiithful  pilgrims  who  made  so  long  and  »o  weary  a  jour- 
n^.  Amongst  the  many  related  we  shall  transcribe  but  two, 
which  seem  to  us  impressed  with  a  character  peculiarly  inter* 
esting;  and  also  because  they  tend  to  demonstrate  how  rapidly 
love  for,,  and  confidence  in  our  dear  Saint  were  propagjatod  and 
CQiSrmed  even  in  the  most  distant  countries. 

It  was  but  natural  that  veneration  for  BUsabeth  shovld  be 
speedily  establislied  in  Hnugary,  the.  hind  of  her  births  and 
thfrt  the  history  of  her  holy  life,  and  the  news  of  her  cauoiit- 
Eation  should  have  excited  the  most  extraoiilinary  feelings  of 
joy  and  admiratioa  in  that  country  to  which  she  specially  be- 
longed. Now  there  was  at  Strigonia„  in  Hungary,  an  honest 
mid  pious  couple»  whose  only  child  had  just  died.  The  father 
^gi^  mother  were  grievously  aflBicfted  by  this  loss.  After 
hh>iDg  groaned  and  wept  for  a  long  time  they  retired  to  reiitk 


or    HVHQAUr. 


tTf 


but  itill  GOiild  not  ceue  upeiikmg  of  their  lUlle  bne.  The  mo- 
tiiei  slumbered  for  •  while,  end  had  e  dream  which  inspired 
her  to  take  at  oooe  the  body  of  ber  deceaiied  chHd  to  the  tomb 
ot'  St.  Blimb^th,  itt  Qennanj.  Having  awoke,  she  placed 
her  trust  in  lAie  Lori  ftnd  said  to  her  hmbaad :  '*  Let  qi  not 
bury  cor  littlfc  giri,  bat  let  vs  take  her  with  Arith  to  Saint 
Kliiabeth,  whtMi  tke  Lord  has  glorified  bj  many  miracles,  in 
order  that  "by  ber  phiyera  oor  child's  life  may  be  reatorML'' 
'ilie  htuband  yielded  to  H^b  wighes  of  his  wift. 

At  an  earl^  boar  next  laoming,  when  the  fHendi  wer6 
waiting  to  acjsottipany  the  body  to  the  chorcb,  in  order  to 
haviB  M  ititMnred,  they  were  amaaed  to  see  the  father  and 
mother  laying  ft  ia  It  basket  aad  setting  out  for  the  sanctnaty 
of  EiifiSibetb,  beedteas  of  the  mnrmort  aad  derision  by  which 
tliie^  were  assailed.    They  travelled  for  thirty  days,  weeping, 
and  enduring  great  pri^wtioo  ;  but,  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
Qod  had  pity  on  their  liiitii  alid  grief,  and  regarding  the 
merits  lof  HiBidefR'  Etotbeth,  He  sent  back  the  innocent  soul 
of  the  obild  to  ibe  Inanimate  body  wbtoh  rwas  offered  to  Hi^ 
with  anch  simple  conideme,  and  testored  the  little  one  to  life. 
Notwithstanding  their  excessive  joy,  tlie  piotis  patents  resolved 
upon  completing  their  pilgrimage  %o  the  tonftb  of  Efiaabeth ; 
(hey  bi'ooght  their  veenseitaited  child  to  Marbaiig,  and  afiir 
nuftking  their  thanksgiving  there,  they  retamed  to  Hangary 
to  enjoy  tJMir  miraouloQs  hap^nness.    Tl&is  same  young  girl, 
in  trfker  years,  accompanied  into  Germany  a  daughter  of  the 
king  of  Hnngscry  ivho  was  given  in  marriage  lo  the  Dnke  of 
BHvnria;  when  she  oatne  to  Ratisbon  with  her  ^yal  mistress, 
tfhe  tliete  entered  ia  Convent  of  Dominicans,  over  whom  she 
became  Prioreas,  aad  was  stUl  living  in  great  sanctity  when 
I'heodoiio  wrote  his  history. 

At  th«  otbe¥  i^xOrenity  of  Europe,  in  Btojg^and,  there  waa 
at  this  titte  «  iiM>l6  9ady  Who  had  no  children,  and  who,  aftMr 
liTi^g  with  betr  httiband  %t  twenty  years,  «aw  iiim  die,  to  li« 


VI 


mi 


Hi  * 

"W3 


880 


LIFE    or    IT.    lUEABITR, 


great  gfiet  In  her  widowhood  and  loneliness  she  cot  olT  ))>r 
hair,  assumed  a  plain,  gray  dress,  and  songht  some  flo1n(  <•  hv 
adopting  twelve  poor  creatures  as  her  children.  Th'sp  vi,.. 
lodged  in  her  own  house;  she  nourished  and  clothed,  an  I 
with  her  own  hands  washed  and  served  them.  Wherever  sli(> 
found  poor  or  sick  people,  she  g^ve  them  alms  for  the  love  of 
God  and  of  St.  Elizabeth  ;  for  she  had  heard  of  Elizalxil., 
and  had  learned  to  love  her  better  than  anything  in  this 
world,  and  more  than  all  the  otfier  saints  of  God.  Tho 
thooght  of  this  beloved  one  never  quitted  her,  and  by  day 
and  by  night  she  meditated  on  her  blessed  life.  At  the  mo- 
ment willed  by  God  this  noble  and  pious  lady  died.  Whilst 
all  were  regretting  her,  her  confessor  said  to  those  who  wept, 
that  her  body  should  be  brought  to  the  tomb  of  St.  Elizabeth, 
for  that  during  her  life  she  had  made  a  vow  to  go  there.  ITor 
fKends  agreed  to  this,  and  they  crossed  the  sea  and  travelled 
through  an  immense  tract  of  country. 

After  seven  weeks'  journey,  they  arrived  with  her  body  at 
Marburg  ;  when  they  had  invoked  the  Saint  with  great  fer- 
vour, the  body  of  tlie  good  lady  became  re-animated,  and  she 
was  restored  to  life,  saying :  "  Oh  how  happy  am  I !  I  have 
reposed  on  the  bosom  of  St.  Elizabeth  !^  Her  friends  wished 
her  to  return  to  England,  but  she  refused  to  leave  the  place 
sanctified  by  her  celestial  protectress;  she  led  there  for  fifteen 
years  a  most  holy  life,  in  almost  entire  silence — speaking,  in 
fact,  but  to  her  confessor.  He  asked  her  one  day  why  she 
had  imposed  on  herself  this  perpetual  silence.  She  r(  plied, 
"  Whilst  I  reposed  on  the  bosom  of  Elizabeth,  I  experienced 
too  much  happiness  and  joy  ever  to  occupy  myself  with  any 
thing  else  but  to  think  how  I  could  regain  such  bliss  for 
eternity.*' 

For  three  centuries,  surrounded  by  a.  halo  of  glory,  and 
receiving  daily  homage  and  thanksgiving  for  so  many  bles& 
ings,  the  body  of  Elizabeth  remained  in  her  magnificent 


OV    BWOABT. 


*harch  in  the  enitody  of  the  Teatonic  kiilghta,  who  alwayt 
vore  the  badge  of  the  cron  for  the  defence  of  the  Faith. 
But  her  heart — that  most  noble  relic — was  asked  for  and  ob- 
tained by  Godfrey,  Bishop  of  Cambray  ;  was  transported  to 
hi*  Epijcopal  city,  aud  laid  on  an  altar  in  his  cathedral. 
Neither  history  nor  tradition  infbnns  os  of  the  motives  that 
influenced  the  faithful  of  Qerraany  to  deprive  themselves  of 
this  precious  treasure  in  favour  of  a  distant  diocese.  But  can 
»'e  not  discover  in  it  a  mysterious  dispensation  of  Providence, 
which  permitted  that  this  pare  and  tender  heart  should  await 
bt  Cambray  another  worthy  of  her,  by  its  humility,  charity, 
and  ardent  love  of  Qod — the  heart  of  Fenelon  f 

The  Yeneration  of  the  dear  St.  Elizabeth  was  soon  propa- 
gated throughout  Christendom.  Whilst  millions  came  to 
pray  at  her  tomb,  a  vast  number  of  churches  were  erected 
under  her  invocation,  particularly  at  Treves,  Strasbourg, 
Cassel,  Prague,  and  Winchester ;  convents,  hospitals,  asylums 
for  all  kinds  of  moral  and  physical  suffering,  took  her  for  their 
special  patroness  and  protectress  under  Qod. 

Her  festival  day  was,  according  to  the  directions  of  the  6ov« 
ereign  Pontiff,  obnerved  throughout  all  the  Church,  and  in  somo 
localities  with  snrpassing  pomp  and  splendour.  The  diocese  of 
Uildesboim  waa  distinguished  for  the  solemnity  with  which  this 
holy  feast  was  celebrated,  and  for  the  harmonv  <€  the  chauiit 
wliich  resounded  in  the  noble  cathedral  built  there  in  honoui 
of  Mary,  around  the  gigantic  rose-tree  of  Louis  the  Good. 

No  sooner  was  Innocent  IV.  seated  on  the  Pontifical  throne, 
than  he  granted  an  iudulgence  of  one  year  and  forty  days  to 
all  who  should  visit  the  tomb  and  church  of  our  dear  Saint 
during  the  last  three  days  of  Holy  Week. 

Sextus  IV.  granted  an  indulgence  of  fifty  years  and  tftf 
quarantines  to  all  the  faithful,  who,  penitent  and  confessed, 
should  visit  the  churches  of  the  order  of  St  Fraicis,  in  Saint 
Elizabeth's  honour  on  her  festival-day.  ^ 


I.IfB  ^9   AT.    mi.U 


»r  Ob  Um  imm  dtj  tMj  \m  gtined  ittdolgeiiOM  of  one  hundred 
dBj«  in  two  of  the  Mfon  BaaUicM  of  iht  Bteroftl  City,  Ilome.i 
▼Ib.  Bt  '*  SboU  Grooe  di  QBrmBlamma,''  Bud  Bt  "  SaoU  Maritl 
detrli  AugeU." 

The  rick  inipirBtiona  of  th%  LitBrgy,  tho  trae  Christian  | 
poetry,  were  bIbo  devoted  to  oor  dear  BBint. 

ProsBB,  bymns,  ond  onneroBi  BotheBM,  wore  oomposcU  and 
gOBdraUy  Hoed  io  her  hoBOor. 

The  religiouB  Orders,  pBrtioidBrly  the  FrBodscaQ,  Domini* 
CAB,  Otaterdan,  aad  PremoDttrBteoBiaB,  each  couBecrated  to 
Ver  a  special  Office. 

These  effosioas  of  tho  faith  and  gratitodo  of  generations, 
ooBteBiporaries  of  to  glory,  poeieieed  all  the  charms  of 
BimpUoity,  graoBi  and  tobder  piety,  which  Usttngoishcd  the 
Bocient  UturgieB,  Bsany  of  which  are  now  unhappily  forgotten- 
and  thus  were  ooocentrated  on  this  EUsabeth,  whom  we  hare 
Been  bo  fall  of  kwuiity  and  eontempt  for  Bell^  all  the  brilliant 
hoBoura,  the  InefWble  rewards,  the  MirivaUfld  glories,  which 
Holy  Church  has  created  aod  reaenFed  for  her  Saints. 

Yes»  lire  asay  aay  it  without  fear--6aiatB  of  God,  what  glo^ 
is  Uka  unto  yooral  what  humnn  memory  is  cherished,  pre- 
eervedi  consecrated  as  youssl  what  popolarity  can  be  com- 
paled  to  thai  which  yon  eajoy  in  the  baaits  of  all  Cbriiitian 
people! 

Had  yon  soBgfat  after  liaman  glory,  tbe  eodlompt  for  which 
is  one  of  tho  noblelt  features  in  yoor  lives,  ywar  greatest 
ofibrts  could  nearer  Bittain  to  that  which  yoB  have  acquired  by 
trampling  it  ander  foot  1  Conquerors,  legislators,  geniuses, 
are  forgotten,  or  are  but  honoured  at  oocasiooal  moments  by 
•the  iracillatiDg  feelings  of  men ;  most  of  them  are  disregarded 
'Or  anknown.  On  the  contrary,  you,  blessed  children  of  the 
earth  yon  have  sanctified,  of  ihe  Heavea  you  o^y,  are 
known  and  lo?ed  hj  all  Christians ;  for  ev«ry  Christian  has 
ehoBcn  at  least  one  from  amongst  yon,  to  be  his  friend,  hia 


I  .. 


Oil   a9««4ftT« 

Ltion,  the  confidant  of  bii  heftrt-tbooghts,  the  depoeitoiy  of 
kit  timid  hopes,  the  protector  of  hii  beppineM,  the  conioler 
lif  Ilia  MMlneei  t 

Associated  with  the  eternal  duration  of  the  CbmriRh,  yot 
lire,  like  her,  impasiable  and  ■ocbmgeahle  in  your  glory. 
At  least  once,  erery  year,  the  sun  rises  under  your  iufocation, 
and  thousands  of  Obristians  are  eongratubited,  be<aose  tbef 
I  have  the  happiness  to  bear  your  name^  and  tbia  blessed  name 
I  is  commemorated,  chaunted,  proclaimed  aloud  in  erery  sano- 
taary  of  Faith  by  thousands  of  innocent  and  pure  souls  ;  by 
tbe  Toices  of  spotless  virgins;  by  those  of  th«  hecoioas  of 
divine  charity,  by  those  of  Levites  and  priests,  by  the  whole 
sacerdotal  hierarchy,  from  the  SoTeielgn  PtailUf  to<  tbe  lowest 
recluse  in  bis  eell,  who  together  tbusi  reply  to  syii4  tB*eebo  tb« 
concerts  of  the  angels  in  Heavea. 

Once  again,  O  Saints  of  Ood  I  what  i^JsyiawaapMibh 
to  yoar  glory  during  time  aad  eftenitf  1 


l^i 


I 


'1 


i 


r 


til 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


iffll| 


VBAT  BI04in  OV  THI  OHILDBBV  AMD  BBI^TITM  OF  THI  T'RAR 
BT.  BJJZABBTB  ArTBK  BBB  OBATB,  ABO  Off  TBB  ORBAT  tAIMI 
BPBVNO  VBOM  BBB  BAOB. 


*0  40*01  pulebn  «l  OMto  gMMntto  oaoi  obriUU:  Immortalta  Mt  •nlm  ta» 
llUna;  qaonlam  •%  apud  D«uin  noU  «^  •!  apii<t  homlnaik  ...  in  prrpctinin 
MraoAUtrlumphat  loootoqaliMloroia  oarUoilnaoi  pnomlooi  vlooaoAi**— <fa/>.  Iv.  1,  t 


'  Wb  will  doobiless  be  forgiven  for  inserting  here  an 
abridged  aocoant  of  ttie  destinies  of  the  children  of  the  di^ur 
St.  Elizabeth,  as  well  as  those  of  the  principal  personages 
who  figured  in  the  history  of  her  blessed  life. 

Following  then  the  order  in  which  they  departed  out  of 
this  world,  we  most  first  notice  her  father,  king  Andrew. 
From  the  time  he  heard  of  his  daughter's  death,  he  fell  into 
a  deep  melaocholy,  principally  produced  by  the  ideas  that  ho 
had  not  sufficiently  known  or  appreciated  her  virtues,  and 
that  he  had  too  soon  become  resigned  to  leave  her  in  misery 
and  abjection  ;  but  he  had  the  consolation  of  seeing  her  sane* 
tity  recognised  by  the  Church,  and  proclaimed  throughout 
the  Christian  world,  and  he  died  in  a  short  time  after  her 
canonization.  The  Duchess  Sophia,  her  mother-in-law,  died 
inr  1238,  two  years  after  having  assisted  at  the  solemn  trans- 
lation of  the  remains  of  her  whose  high  destiny  she  had  bo 
long  misunderstood  :  she  was,  by  her  own  desire,  interred  ut 
the  convent  of  St.  Catherine,  at  Eisenach,  which  her  husband, 
Puke  Hermann,  had  founded. 

The  most  fervent  of  the  admirers  and  champions  of  tiie 
Baint,  her  brother-in-law,  Conrad,  did  not  long  survive  the 
ample  reparation  he  made  for  the  wrongs  he  had  done  her. 


■I   ' 


OF    MVHOABr 


Bit  pietj,  9onng%  ftod  gre»l  btimUit}*,  nvulo  him  b«  choMo 
iiH  Grand  Mwter  of  the  Teutonic  Order  which  he  hml  oin* 
traced  in  the  ^irit  of  penance.  Ho  const^crnted  a  great  part 
of  h\%  wealth  to  the  erection  of  tlio  diurch  which  bear/.  iJio 
1 1  Mine  of  ElnabeUi  at  Marburg,  of  which  he  hud  the  glory  cf 
tioing  the  founder.  It  waa  douUJoai  to  l>e  eiuibivd  to  WHtoh 
over  and  eipedite  tbia  great  undertaking,  or,  perhapa,  through 
Aliei^on  for  the  placet  aaoctified  by  hia  bW^aed  aiatcr,  that  lie 
cluMii  Marburg  aa  the  centre  and  reiidence  of  tlie  Order  ol 
uhioh  ki  wtt  the  head,  and  buiH  there  the  pulace  called 
the  OomnuMiderj,  the  mint  of  which  are  aiill  to  be  eeen. 
Hie  prolOoged  viaitt  to  HesM  did  not  hinder  him  from  pretid- 
ing  OTO^  the  new  developneni  which  the  Teutonic  knightt 
exhibited  in  Pn»ala,  when  the  Dnke  of  Matovbi  called  apon 
then  to  aacoonr  the  Chrittiaiis  Against  the  Pngana.  Conrad 
(ought  with  hniTcry  and  skill ;  he  extended  the  potsemiont 
of  bit  Ordcp^he  obtained  from  tlie  Pope  the  infettiture  of 
the  profince  tlmt  was^to  be  the  theatre  of  its  greatest  gh>ry. 
Bat  before  the  dote  of  hit  life,  he  wat  anxious  to  re-vitit 
Rome.  After  arriving  there  be  fell  terkmfdy  ill.  During  hit 
malady,  he  attaioSd  to  tacb  a  degree  of  interior  purity,  that 
be  coold  not,  withoot  great  pain  e?en  of  body,  eiidare  tho 
orestnco  of  any  one  who  was  m  the  ttate  of  mortal  sin,  aa 
that  those  who  were  m  hit  serrice  were  obliged  to  abstain 
from  all  etil.  Ha  bad  for  confetsor,  the  ?enerable  abbot  of 
Hag«o,  of  the  Order  of  Oileaox. 

One' day  when  tbli  boly  Bfeiigk>oi  came  to  tha  Landgraye^ 
bedside,  he  peratired  him  absorbed  in  a  ttate  of  ecitaay. 
Wlien  he  wat  restored,  the  abbot  asked  htm  what  he  had  seen 
in  the  rision.  Conrad  replied  :  "  I  was  before  the  throne  off 
the  eternal  Judge,  and  my  destiny  was  teTerely  examined. 
Jmtioe  ordained  that  I  tbookl  bo  condemned  to  the  paim 
of  pargatory  for  fiTe  yeart ;  but  ray  good  taster  Elixabetb 
•ppwathed  the  tribaaal,  and  obtained  the  roaaitiion  of  tbit 

n 


•i 


t 


Liri    OF    ST.    ILIIABBTS, 


I      !! 


laffcn'ng.    Know  then  that  I  shall  die  of  this  illness,  and  tlmt 
I  shall  enjoy  eternal  glory." 

He  died  soon  after,  having  prcvionsly  given  directions  th»i 
his  body  should  be  brought  to  Morburg  to  repose  near  tluit 
of  the  Saint  in  the  chnrch  he  had  commenced  in  her  hoiionr 
His  tomb  is  still  to  be  seen  there,  and  on  it  he  is  representrd 
as  piously  sleeping  in  the  Lord,  holding  in  his  hand  the  diH- 
cipiine,  as  he  had  presented  it  to  the  people  to  strike  him  on 
the  ruins  of  Fritzlar. 

If  Conrad  so  completely  atoned  for  his  sins  against  God 
and  St.  Elizabeth,  his  brother,  Henry  Baxpon,  acted  in  a  very 
different  manner,  and  his  name  is  painfully  intermingled  with 
the  Htcs  of  the  children  of  the  Saint.  These  children  seem 
to  us,  from  all  the  memorials  which  remain  of  them,  to  have 
been  penetrated  with  gratitude  to  God  for  having  deigned  to 
will  that  they  should  receive  being  from  a  Saint,  and  also  to 
have  been  justly  proud  in  the  sight  of  men  of  so  glorious  an 
origin ;  in  the  Charters  and  other  official  documents,  they 
always  inscribed  themselves,  Son  or  Daughter  of  St.  Eliza- 
beth, before  all  their  titles  of  sovereignty  or  nobility 

Two  of  them,  the  younger  children,  Sopfiia  and  Gertrude, 
accomplished   their  days  in  peace  in  the  asylums  she  had 
chosen  for  them  amongsj;  the  virgins  consecrated  to  the  Lord 
—one  at  Kitzingen,  the  other  at  Aldenberg  near  Wetzlar. 
Each  became  abbess  of  her  community.    Gertrude  was  elected 
in  1249,  and  governed  her  monastery  during  forty-nine  years. 
She  walked  worthily  in  the  footsteps  of  her  holy  mother  hj 
her  piety  and  generosity  to  the  poor  ;  miracles  have  been 
attributed  to  her,  and  she  has  always  borne  the  title  of  the 
*'  Blessed.''  On  the  petition  of  the  Emperor  Louis  of  Bavaria 
Clement  VI.  granted  indulgences  to  all  who  should  celebiHte 
her  feast     Her  tomb  is  still  to  be  seen  at  Aldenberg,  as  well 
•a  several  precious  relics  of  her  blessed  mother  which  sh«  had 
collected  there  with  pious  cai^e.     Amongst  these  are  a  ob«Mi 


OF    BUHOART. 


881 


ble,  made  of  red  ▼elvct  from  a  robe  of  St.  Elizabeth ;  a  uWer 
fi^ilt  cap,  in  which  she  served  the  poor  in  her  hospital  with 
lirink ;  her  wedding  ring ;  and  some  other  memorials,  most 
of  which  are  now  in  the  castle  of  Braunfels  and  in  the  posset- 
Hion  of  the  prince  of  Solms. 

The  other  two  children  of  Elizabeth,  her  son  Hermann,  and 
tier  daughter  Sophia,  experienced  a  yery  different  fate,  and 
were,  like  their  mother,  sufferers  from  the  injustice  of  men. 

Hermann,  when  arrived  at  the  age  of  16  years,  in  1239, 
took  possession  of  his  father's  dominions,  which  his  uncle 
bad  governed  during  his  minonty.  He  soon  after  travelled 
to  France  to  visit  the  holy  King  Loais  IX.  and  was  present, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  at  the  great  court  held  at  Saumur, 
where  his  quality  as  son  of  St.  Elizabeth  attracted  to  him 
universal  attention,  and  where  Queen  Blanche,  of  Castile, 
bestowed  on  him  marks  of  the  most  tender  affection.  He 
espoused  Helen,  daughter  of  Duke  Otho  of  Brunswick ;  all 
seemed  to  promise  him  a  brilliant  and  happy  future,  when  he 
died  at  the  age  of  eighteen  years  in  1241,  at  Creutzbourg, 
where  he  was  bor;i ;  his  early  death  is  usually  attributed  to 
poison,  administered  to  him  by  a  woman  named  Bertha  de 
Seebach,  at  the  Instigation  of  his  unworthy  uncle,  Henry. 
Before  breathing  his  last  sigh,  the  unfortunate  young  man 
expressed  his  desire  of  being  interred  near  his  blessed  mother; 
but  Henry,  who  immediately  resumed  the  reins  of  government, 
would  not  allow  him  even  this  consolation,  fearing  the  Saint 
would  restore  him  to  life,  as  she  had  resuscitated  so  many 
(lead  persons.  So  he  had  his  body  conveyed  to  Beynharts- 
brunn,  where  bis  sepulchral  monument  is  still  to  be  seen  near 
that  of  his  father. 

Henry  Raspon^  now  sole  roaster  of  and  lawful  heir  to  the 
vast  possessions  of  the  house  of  Thuringia,  soon  became  th« 
fshief  of  the  opposition  party,  which  increased  every  day  in 
Qemauy,  snd  which  was  excited  by  the  attacks  made  by  tht 


V 


n 


4 

-.1 


0ild*^ 


m 


LlWm    or     0V.    BLIIAVBTH, 


Ehiperor  Frederio  IT.  against  the  independenea  of  the  lesmtt 
prineea  and  the  rights  of  the  Church.     Pope  Innocent  IV. 
having  falmlnated  the  sentence  of  deposition  against  Frcderio 
at  the  Council  of  Lyons,  the  Dake  of  Thnringla  was  naturoli? 
put  forward  in  the  ranks  to  supply  his  plaoe.    Though  it  was 
thoQght  that  the  imperial  crown  was  the  object  of  his  ambi- 
^rni,  yet  he  always  alleged  unfitness  for  that  great  dignity 
The  Pope  exhorted  him  to  derote  himself  to  the  welfare  of 
Christianity  and  sent  him  considerable  eabsidles.     He  allowed 
himself  to  be  elected  King  of  the  Romans  in  1246,  and  was 
anointed  in  the  following  year.    He  made  war  with  tolera- 
ble success  against  Frederic  and  his  son  Conrad,  but  he  did 
not  long  enjoy  his  new  dignity.     In  1948  death  carried  hini 
off,  and  though  he  had  been  married  three  timet,  he  left  no 
children.    Ttie  Christian  people  saw  in  the  extinction  of  his 
race  the  just  chastisement  of  his  perfidy  to  ETizabeth,  and  of 
the  crime  imputed  to  him  in  regard  to  his  nephew.     He  re- 
quested that  his  heart  should  be  carried  to  the  convent  of 
Dominicans  which  he  had  founded  at  Eisenach,  in  explatiou  of 
his  misdeeds  towards  his  sister-in-law. 

After  his  death  Thuringia  was  exposed  to  all  the  horrors  of 
a  war  of  succession.  The  male  heirs  of  the  ancient  Dukes  of 
Thuringia  were  extinct  in  the  person  of  Henry;  so  the  posses- 
sions descended  to  the  female  line.  Sophia,  eldest  daughter 
of  St.  Elizabeth  and  Duke  Louts,  married,  as  we  have  seen, 
to  the  Duke  of  Brabant,  presented  herself  to  take  possession 
•f  ihe  inheritance  of  her  father,  in  her  own  name  and  in  that 
of  her  son  Henry,  sr-named  the  Infiml  from  being  then  but 
Ifaree  years  old. 

She  was  immediately  acknowledged  in  Hesse,  whieh  pro- 
fince  she  goTcrned  with  gp^at  wisdom  and  courage  chiriug 
the  long  minority  of  her  son. 

But  in  Thuringia  she  found  a  formidable  rival  in  thepersoa 
6f  her  consio^rman,  Henry  the  Illustrwui^  Maijgr«reof 


•f    ■fJK#ABTi 


IIMa,  wum  tf  Oota,  titter  of  Dake  Lomt  aad  King  H«nry. 
Thit  prince,  profiting  of  the  *\r  idoa»  wkicli  had  trisen  m 
Tburingift  after  the  doatk  of  ;  laiy,  aa  wdl  aa  of  tkoat  hf 
which  Um  wholo  «mpirt  W|«  coovultod,  tvcteadtd  in  oUtaining 
pottattion  of  a  great  part  ol  Tburingia,  and  abora  all,  of  tbo 
oaatla  of  Wartbtrg.  There  waa  no  loagev  aa  emperor  ro* 
cognised  to  do  justice  in  the  holy  Roman  empire  siacf  the  do» 
cline  of  the  Hovae  of  Svabia.  Sophia  obtained  the  •asiatanco 
of  a  taliafti  and  devoted  prince,  Albert  Duke  of  Bruoiwiek* 
whose  daughter  vasaffianced  to  the  jonng  Henry  of  Biabantb 
Bat  in  despite  of  the  efforts  of  thift  ally,  and  of  thecoiirogtt 
vjth  wbiok  SpphiA  always  took  part  in  hii  warlike  expedi- 
tions, tht  MiMTgrave  Henry  ret<uned  possession  of  his  usurpeil' 
pow«r.  We  shftU  not  eptcr  into  tb«  details  of  this  fcarfnl 
itruggK  but  shall  confine  porselves  to  the  nacratioii  of  a  (ew 
particulars  wM^h  serve  to  depict  Sophia's  character,,  and  tp 
show  how  t)^e  faithful  people  sorronnded  the  reipembranco^ 
of  the  dcMT  Saint's  descendants  with  the  bfdo  of  poesy  in  thei^ 
tra4itiQns,  Tbos,  it  is  said,  that  i^  the  first  conference  whio|i 
took  place  between  Sophia  fU)d  the  Mar^prave,  the  If^tter  wflfi 
disposed  to  listen  to  bi^  cQusiu  ;  whilst  be  spoke  tp  he^,  hii 
nuarshal,  the  Jjord  de  Schlottbeim,  took  him  aside  and  said  ; 
"  M7  Lord,  what  are  yon  about  to  do  ?  If  it  were  pos^iblf 
that  you  could  havetooe  foot  in  Heayei)  anci  the  other  in  Wart- 
burg,  you  should  withdraw  that  which  was  in  Heaven  the 
better  to  retain  Waitburg.**  Henry  allowed  himself  to  be 
influenced  by  this,  i^nd  s^id  to  the  Dpchess,  "  Dear  cousin,  I 
must  reflect  on  these  matters,  and  consult  my  peers.^  Then 
Sophia  burst  into  tears,  and  thrQwing  her  glove  from  off  her 
right  hand,  she  said,  "O  enemy  of  all  justice,  I  say  to  thee, 
Sf^tan,  that  I  throw  thee  my  gauntlet,  take  it,  und  with  it  all 
crafty  and  perfidious  counsellors.^  The  glove  erose  in  tbe  imt 
and  disappeared,  and  very  soon  fifter  tbe  evQ  couu^eUpr  fell  ill 
aid  died. 


-i 


•90 


Liri    PW    6Tc    B1.IKAVCTB, 


i  liK 


f  * 


Later  still  in  1254,  in  another  conference,  Sophia  despair 
iDg  of  being  able  to  convince  her  rival  by  reason,  or  of  subli 
ing  him  by  force,  sought  to  appeal  to  his  sense*  of  religion ;  she 
brought  with  her  a  relic  of  her  holy  mother,  and  exacted  that 
he  should  swear  on  this  sacred  memorial  of  her  who  had  ^^•J 
much  honoured  Thuringia,  that  he  thought  her  claims  to  tho 
oountry  just  and  well-founded. 

.  The  noble  and  touching  faith  of  the  daughter  in  the  influ- 
ence of  her  mother's  remembrance  over  the  conscience  of  her 
worldly  adversary  was  deceived.  Henry  swore  falsely,  and 
twenty  of  his  knights  supported  his  oath. 
'  The  inhabitants  of  Eisenach  became  energetic  partisans^ot 
Sophia,  as  if  they  wished  to  expiate  their  former  ingratitude  to 
Elizabeth  by  devotion  to  her  child.  They  even  besieged  Wart- 
burg,  where  tho  Margrave's  forces  were  garrisoned,  and  erected 
two  forts  the  better  to  attack  the  castle.  But  Henry  surprised 
tihe  town  by  night  and  got  possession  of  it  by  treachery.  He 
pnt  to  death  the  principal  friends  of  the  daughter  and  grandson 
of  Elizabeth.  To  terrify  the  inhabitants,  he  fastened  Welspecbe, 
the  most  earnest  supporter  of  their  cause,  to  a  war-machiDe, 
and  had  the  barbarity  to  order  that  he  should  be  thus  flung 
from  the  summit  of  Wartbui^  into  the  town  of  Eisenach ;  but 
the  brave  man  while  cleaving  the  air  cried  out^  **  Thuringia  be- 
longs by  right  to  the  Infant  of  Brabant."  Tradition  alleges 
that  he  suffered  this  punishment  three  times,  and  that  he  again 
and  again  repeated,  **  Thuringia  belongs  to  the  Infant  of  Bra- 
bant,** and  that  it  was  only  after  the  third  fall  the  patriot  mar- 
tyr expired.  Sophia  arrived  soon  after  from  Hesse  and  came 
to  Eisenach ;  she  presented  herself  at  the  gate  of  St.  George, 
which  she  found  closed,  and  demanded  admittance;  and  as  the 
inhabitants  did  not  reply,  she  seized  a  hatchet,  and  struck  the 
oaken  gate  with  such  violence  that  she  left  in  it  a  cleft  wbidi 
mm  visible  for  two  centuries  after. 


or  BuvoiRr. 


m 


In  1265,  Dnke  Albert  of  Brnnswlck,  having  been  com* 
plctely  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  by  the  son  of  the  Margrave, 
\t  became  necessary  to  enter  into  a  definite  arrangement.  So- 
phia was  obliged  to  renoonce  all  her  pretensions  toThnringia, 
which  remained  thenceforth  in  the  possession  of  the  House  of 
Misnia  ;  in  satisfaction,  however,  the  sovereignty  of  Hease 
was  guaranteed  to  her  son,  Henry  the  In/an  i,  and  his  pos- 
terity. This  division  of  the  provinces  has  continaed  to  our 
own  time,  and  the  existing  families  of  Hesse  and  Saxony  are 
descended  from  the  two  princes  whose  rights  were  fixed  in 
this  treaty. 

Sophia  died  in  1284,  at  the  age  of  sixty  years,  after  having 
during  her  life  carefully  raintained  the  prosperity  of  her 
country  and  of  her  family. 

She  reposes  t^t  Marbnrg,  in  the  same  tomb  with  her  son, 
and  in  the  church  dedicated  to  her  holy  mother.  Her  recum- 
bent statue,  wearing  an  expression  as  if  engaged  in  prayer, 
as  was  the  custom  of  Catholic  ages,  is  still  to  be  eeen  then  ; 
and  by  her  side,  that  son  over  whom  she  had  watched  with  so 
much  courage  and  maternal  solicitude.  The  face  of  the  statue 
is  a  good  deal  worn  away  by  the  kisses  of  the  pilgrims,  who 
transferred  to  her  a  portion  of  their  love  for  her  mother. 

Henry  I.  surnamed  the  In/ant,  son  of  Sophia  and  gracd- 
ion  of  St.  Elizabeth,  and  first  sovereign  of  Hesse  as  an  laor 
lated  and  independant  state,  reigned  until  1308,  rich  in  glory 
and  the  affection  of  his  people,  whom  he  preserved  from  all 
rapine  and  invasion.  He  was  sixty-five  years  old  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  though  he  is  represented  but  as  a  little  child 
upon  the  tomb  shared  by  him  and  his  mother.  From  hiro 
sprung  two  different  branches  of  the  House  of  Hesse,  with 
whom  most  of  the  royal  families  of  Europe  are  allied,  and 
share  by  this  means  in  the  glory  of  reckoning  Saint  Elizabeth 
amongst  their  ancestors. 

Having  given  these  details  concerning  the  descendanta  of 


i 


it 


IIPI    or    •!«    »LISABKTB, 


;'  u 


I  i 


ii-t 


St  Elizibeth,  w*  mj  bt  ptnnitled  to  apAoil  oT  fte  finnn; 
from  which  the  sproni^  io  which  fi«r«  nnmbMod  naiiy  hol| 
personages,  apon  whom  the  eiMople  of  o«r  deor  Baint  most 
befe  hod  coii8ider«bIe  inlbieDce.  In  the  matefiMiI  Use,  her 
annt,  St  Hedwige,  Dochess  of  Poland  and  Silesia,  enrriTod 
her  {  we  hare  ahread/  seen  that  the  pioos  example  of  this  re- 
nowned princess  had  affected  Elizabeth  in  her  tender  age,  and 
we  maj  be  permitted  to  think  that  the  Dnebeti  Hedwige  woi 
Rtrengthened  in  her  fervour  sad  austerity,  bj  what  she  was 
enabled  to  icam  of  the  life  of  her  yooag  nieoe,  and  by  tho 
wlemn  proclamation  of  her  blessed  immortality  in  Henven  and 
on  earth.  It  appears  as  if  Hedwige  sotq^ht  more  rapidly  to 
fbllow  the  youthful  pilot  to  the  happy  port  where  both  were  to 
fund  so  gloriously.  At  the  death  of  Bliiabeth  she  had  been 
sent  a  veil  worn  by  our  Saint ;  Hedwige  tnisrtoined  for  this 
relic  the  ipreatest  veneration,  and  would  never  leate  it  off 
until  she  had  breathed  her  last  sigh,  and  oertainly  no  one 
m^i'ited  better  this  symbolic  gift 

Married  at  the  age  of  twelve  years  to  Duke  Heivy  the 
Bearded^  tS\jst  having  borne  him  six  children,  when  still  very 
f  onng,  she  with  her  husband  made  a  vow  to  live  thenceforth 
•s  i>roiher  and  sister.  She  resolted  to  found  a  great  monas- 
tery for  Cistercian  nuns  near  a  place  where  her  husband  had 
fallen  into  a  mArsh,  wh**  ce  he  was  delivered  by  an  angel, 
teis  monastery  was  called  ^bnitz,  because  when  the  Duke 
Inquired  of  the  new  religious,  whether  th^y  were  well  supplied, 
ihey  re)^:ied  that  they  wanted  not  for  aqy thing — ^in  Polish, 
Trzeha  nie,  JSedwige  had  her  daughter  Oertrude  appointed 
abbess  of  th(s  house,  whither  she  soon  retired  herself  and  with 
her  husbaad's  permissbn  took  the  religious  habit,  but  neither 
the  vow  of  obedience)  nor  of  poverty,  that  ahe  might  not  be 
restricted  in  alms-|[iving. 

During  her  entire  life  she  rivalled  tier  holy  niece  b|y  her 
iMmilitj  and  extraordinary  mortifications  i  in  reading  9f  the 


ii 


OV    flUVOAIff 


aloioft  incirediU«  amterilief  ihe  joiktoA  on  htr  fr»H  tedf ,  m 
luiow  not  which  to  •dmin  iiott,  tha  indmiitiblo  itraigtli  of 
iwr  vtill,  or  Hm  noooor  gnmtod  bjr  the  Lani  (o  ofttvrt  wImb 
4i  itcifM  to  rite  abofo  tt«  oira  $biienio«t  to  Mctad  W  Hiii. 
S»e^whei«  she  ioogbt  the  Ww9#t  plao^,  foeing  pBnetn4e<l 
irith  tho  q^ji  th»t  «Mre<|  tho  GftoaoiMi  wooMto,  irheo  8ho 
bogged  froni  Jow*  the  cramhis  th»t  feU  (row  the  tablet  of  tho 
ehildrea  of  Qod  (  thai  Hedwige  xooght  119  other  food  thM 
that  left  ftt  the  tables  of  naas  and  moaks  whom  she  delighted 
to  senre.  Bat  it  was  particularly  by  her  Qbaritj  and  coinpaa> 
iion  that  she  riyalled  oar  dear  SUsabetb. 

"  She  hadf''  sajs  a  pipus  writer,  "  so  tender  a  heart  that 
she  could  not  see  any  one  weep  withoat  shedding  team 
in  abundance,  nor  take  repose  when  she  knew  that  others  eo- 
dored  anguish  or  weariness. 

"  She  had  always  poor  people  at  her  table,  whom  she  served 
on  her  knees  before  she  would  sit  down  ;  and  often  when  an- 
observed  she  would  kiss  their  fioot-prhits,  honouring  in  them 
Jesus  Christ,  who  being  the  Kipg  of  |^lory  became  poor  fbr 
oar  sakes.  So  tenderly  did  she  lore  the  poor  that  she  oflett 
bought  from  them  pieces  of  bread  which  the  religions  gave 
them  as  alms,  and  these  she  kissed  and  ate  as  if  they  were  the 
bread  of  angels,  and  a  sacred  food.  Amongst  ^e  poor  there 
were  thii-teen  of  those  who  suffered  most  whom  she  selected  to 
remind  her  of  Christ  and  Ilis  apostles ;  these  she  brooght 
with  her  whereyer  riie  went  \  had  them  well  lodged  and 
dothed,  and  always  wished  that  they  should  dine  before  her, 
that  she  might  serre  them  herself.  She  always  sent  them 
■ome  of  the  best  food  set  beftro  her,  for  she  was  so  diaritaMe, 
ttat  rfie  wonld  not  eat  the  least  tMng,  even  if  it  were  hot  a 
pear,  with  any  satisfaction  if  the  poor  had  not  prerioasly 
tasted  of  H.*" 

Sktwoold  ncfer  peniU  her  vassals  and  aerfet^ba  treated 
hairidj  irtien  anaftili  fa  pay  ^ir  fanfrtenta  and  doaa;  Aa 


* 


0^m' 


m 


LirS    OF    STa    KLISABITH, 


-    ,  I 


inoeiSAntlj  vitited  the  tribanals  where  the  Uw-tuito  of  the  pooi 
were  decided,  and  when  she  found  the  judges  inclined  to  treat 
them  with  aeveritj,  she  would  empower  the  chaplain,  by  whom 
■he  was  always  accompanied  in  these  visits,  to  rererse  the  sen- 
lencm.  Her  husband  entertained  for  her  the  utmost  love  aiicl 
t«i;iect|  and  frequently  gnve  proofs  of  how  much  he  synipa- 
thiticd  in  her  compassion  for  the  poor ;  for  instance,  tlirougli 
affection  for  her,  he  ordered  that  whenever  Hedwige  passed  tlio 
public  prisons,  the  gates  should  be  thrown  open,  and  all  the 
captives  set  at  liberty. 

All  her  exercises  of  piety  were  marked  by  extreme  fervour ; 
every  day  she  heard  as  many  masses  as  there  were  priests  to 
offer  them,  and  each  time  she  shed  an  abundance  of  tears.  She 
was  preeminently  devoted  to  the  holy  Virgin,  and  alwayn  re- 
tained a  little  picture  of  that  benign  mother,  to  which  ir*  her 
simplicity  she  spoke,  which  she  carried  with  her  when  visiting 
the  sick,  who  frequently  recovered  when  she  had,  when  using 
it,  given  them  her  blessing.  Her  husband  having  been  wound- 
ed and  taken  prisoner  by  Duke  Conrad,  his  rival,  she  went 
alone  and  on  foot  to  seek  this  prince,  who  was  then  glowing 
and  sxultiug  in  his  victory :  when  he  perceived  her  he  thought 
it  was  an  angel,  and  without  the  least  resistance,  he  agreed  to 
ter.ns  of  peace,  and  gave  her  husband  freedom. 

In  a  short  time  she  lost  this  beloved'spouse^  and  soon  after 
her  son  Henry,  on  whom  she  had  lavished  the  most  intense  af- 
fection, and  who  was  killed  when  fighting  for  the  defence  of 
Faith  and  European  independence,  against  the  Tartar  hordes. 
She  endured  these  afflictions  with  holy  resignation  to  God^s  di- 
vine will.  But  her  own  death  speedily  ensued.  On  the  feast 
of  the  nativity  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  in  the  year  1243,  the  nun 
in  attendance  on  her,  saw  a  number  of  fair  young  maidens,  sur* 
rounded  with  supernatural  light,  approaching  Hedwige,  who 
•aid  to  them  with  ineffinble  joy :  "  Welcome,  demi  Sain^t,  and 


I;  ! 


or    HUNOAtT. 


good  friendu,  Magdalene,  Catherine,  Thecia,  Unula,  ami  all  50Q 
who  have  come  to  me.**  Then  they  spoke  in  Latin,  but  the  lay 
oater  did  not  understand  what  they  said.  On  the  15th  of  Oo* 
lober  following,  she  breathed  her  last  sigh  in  blessing  God. 

Numerous  miracles  having  attested  her  sanctity,  she  was 
Muionized  by  Pope  Clement  IV.  in  1267.  When  the  solemn 
banslation  of  her  relics  took  place  in  the  following  year,  the 
officiants  found  her  hand  clasped  on  the  little  image  of  tha 
Blessed  Virgin  which  she  had  so  dearly  loved. 

Whilst  St.  Hedwige  shed  such  brilliant  lustre  on  the  ma- 
ternal line  of  Elizabeth,  the  example  of  our  dear  .Saint  produced 
otfects,  if  not  mere  precious,  at  least  more  numerous,  on  tho 
members  of  her  father's  family,  in  the  illustrious  house  of  Hun- 
gary, which  alone,  of  all  the  royal  races  of  Europe,  reckoned 
already  three  canonized  Saints  amongst  its  kings,  St  Stephen, 
St  Emeric,  and  St  Ladislaus. 

Beta  IV.,  brother  of  our  dear  Elizabeth,  and  successor  to  kit 
father,  showed  himself  worthy  of  being  the  brother  of  such  a 
sister,  and  the  father  of  two  other  saints,  by  the  piety,  courage, 
and  resignation  he  manifested  during  a  reign  of  thirty-five  yeant, 
almost  all  of  which  was  a  strnggle  against  the  victorious  Tartars. 
Induced  by  the  example  of  his  sister  he  joined  the  Third  Order  of 
St  Francis,  and  ordered  that  he  should  be  interred  in  the  church 
which  the  Franciscans  had  erected  at  Strigonia,  under  the  invoca- 
tion of  St  Elizabeth,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  those  who 
entreated  him  not  to  abandon  the  ancient  burial-place  of  the  kings. 

The  second  brother  of  our  Saint,  Coloman,  seems  to  have 
been  still  more  charmed  by  the  odour  of  perfection,  which 
was,  as  it  were,  exhaled  by  the  holy  life  of  his  sister.  Having 
espoused  a  Polish  princess  of  9urpassing  beauty,  Salome, 
Janghter  of  the  duke  of  Cracovia,  who  had  been  affianced 
and  brought  up  with  him  from  the  age  of  three  yean,  he 
made  with  her,  on  their  marriage  day   a  vow  of  perpotnal 


t 


IIPI    9W    ST.    PLrSABBTII, 


li! 


ellMtitj,  which  Umj  prowrved  with  iho  otiiKat  tUhWij 
Itleotcd  king  of  Oallicia,  ht  defended  that  part  cf  Poland 
agaittst  the  l^lrtar8,  aod  died  glorioualj  oombattlng  apraiust 
them,  (br  his  coantrj  and  his  Qod.  His  widour  founded  a 
conTent  of  Franciaoan  Friara,  and  another  of  Poor  Clares,  in 
the  latter  of  Which  she  took  the  reil,  where  she  exercised  Uie 
nioflt  heroic  Yirtaes,  and  was  honoured  bj  the  most  partlculur 
fiivours  of  the  dirioe  mercy. 

On  the  day  of  her  death  in  1268,  the  attendants  heard  in 
the  o|r  a  sweet  chorus  of  barmoaious  voices  chaunting  theso 
words  :  Fronduii^  fiurnU  virgula  Aaron.  A  nan  remaricin^ 
that  her  countenance  wore  a  most  joyful  expression,  and  that 
she  smiled  frequently,  said  to  her,  "  Madam,  do  yon  8co 
anything  so  pleading  as  to  make  yon  smile  in  the  midst  of 
Buffering  V*  "  Oh  ^es,"  replied  the  blessed  one,  "  1  see  onr 
Lady,  the  blessed  Virgin,  mother  of  our  Lord,  which  affords 
me  the  greatest  happiness/'  At  the  moment  that  she  breathed 
her  last  sigh,  the  attendants  saw,  as  it  were,  a  little  star 
coming  from  her  lips  and  ascending  towards  Heaven. 

But  the  danghters  of  Bcia  IT.  and  consequently  nieces  of 
.]inizat)eth,  so  closely  related  by  their  sex  to  lier  who  was  the 
honour  of  their  family,  strove  also  to  imitate  her  by  the  auster 
hy  and  sanctity  of  their  lives. 

One  of  them,  known  to  the  Church  under  thd  name  of  the 
Blessed  Margaret  of  Hungary,  was  incessantly  occupied  in 
considering  the  example  l6ft  her  by  her  glorious  atint,  and  her 
whole  life  showed  how  much  she  profited  by  it.  Devoted  to 
the  Lord,  even  before  her  birth,  by  her  mother  Mary,  daughter 
of  the  emperor  of  Otmstantinople,  as  a  propitiatory  offering  to 
obtain  from  Heaven  some  alleviation  of  the  miseiies  inflicted 
by  the  Tartars  on  the  Hungarians,  her  birth  was  signalized 
by  a  brilliant  victory  over  the  infidels,  as  if  God  had  thui 
wished  to  tAstify  His  acceptance  of  the  sacrifice.  Her  pioUii 
parents,  faithful  to  their  promise,  sent  her   at  the   a|p(    ol 


or  auiioABT. 


$91 


tbroe  jthn  aod  a  hnlf  to  a  convent  of  Dominicans.    Oifttid 

vith  a  vast  iDtelligenoe  and  a  sool  mott  ardent,  the  took  tlM 

veil  at  the  age  of  twelve  yean,  tboagli  her  angelic  beauty  and 

royal  birth  earned  her  to  be  sought  after  in  marriage  by  se* 

veral  powrrful  princes  ;  she  remained,  however,  in  her  convent 

for  the  rest  of  her  life,  which  was  for  aboat  twenty-four  years. 

This  time,  apparently  so  short,  was  entirely  employed  by  her 

in  works  of  charity,  of  fervent  piety,  of  extreme  ansterity,  in 

a  word,  of  all  that  coild  develop,  in  her  heart,  and  even  in 

her  exterior,  the  pare  love  of  God.    Mary  and  the  cross  were 

the  means  by  which  she  aspired  to  this  love  and  towards  Him 

who  was  its  object    She  coald  never  mention  the  name  of 

the  holy  Virgin  without  adding,  Mother  <y  God  and  my  Hope 

At  the  age  of  fonr  years  she,  for  the  first  tiioe^  saw  a  cross, 

whereupon  she  asked  the  nuns,  "  What  is  this  tree  ?^^    "  It 

was  upon  such  a  one,''  they  replied,  "  that  the  Son  of  God 

shed  His  blood  for  our  salvation  and  that  of  the  world.^    At 

these  words  the  child  ran  towards  the  Orucifix  and  kissed  it 

with  ardour.    From  that  time  forward  she  never  saw  a  cross 

without  kneeling  to  venerate  it,  and  when  lying  down  to  sleep 

she  used  to  place  a  crucifix  on  her  eyelids,  that  it  might  be 

the  first  object  on  which  her  sight  would  rest  when  awaking. 

God  granted  to  her  the  gift  of  miracles  and  of  prophecy, 

and  the  grace  to  reign  over  the  hearts  of  her  people,  without 

ever  leaving  her  convent;  she  attended  to  the  sick  and  p4X>r 

who  came  to  seek  her,  with  so  much  grace,  with  a  manner  so 

charmingly  kind,  that  for  a  long  time  after  her  death,  when 

anything  was  awkwardly  or  disagreeably  done,  the  Hungarian 

people  used  to  say,  as  a  kind  of  proverb,  *^  It  is  easily  seen  that 

tluR  was  ii(rt  done  after  the  manner  of  sister  HlHigor^;!**    She 

wns  but  twenty-eight  years  old  when  God  ealled  her  from  Iter 

tainily,  her  oouMry,  and  the  Order  which  was  so  jwtly  proud 

At'  her,  to  take  her  place  by  the  side  of  the  gkiriotts  filiiabatk 

ia  BewvMi. 


Hi 


^ii' 


^' 


LIFI    Of    ST.    ILIXABITH, 


!  IK 


!  I: 


Her  sitter  Coneg^nda,  or  Ringed,  married  In  1930  t« 
Boleslaui  the  Baifi/ul,  Dake  of  Poland,  engaged  her  hushnnd 
to  make  with  her  a  solemn  tow  of  chastity,  which  they  oW 
lerTed  during  forty  years  of  married  life.  When  she  becuine  a 
widow  in  1279,  at  the  same  time  with  her  sister  Yolande, 
who  was  married  also  to  a  Bolesians,  Duke  of  Kalitz  in  To- 
land,  both  resolved  to  take  the  veil,  and  to  that  effect,  entered 
as  did  their  aunt  Salome,  into  the  Order  of  Poor  Clares,  whicli 
appears  to  have  offered  such  irresistible  attractions  to  the  prin- 
cesses of  that  age.  Cunegnnda  died  In  1292,  after  having 
given  an  example  of  the  greatest  austerity,  and  haTing  re- 
ceived from  Heaven  the  gift  of  miracles.  She  has  alwajft 
been  regarded  in  Poland  as  a  Saint  and  the  Patroness  of  the 
country.  Her  tomb  has  been  an  object  of  the  Teneration  of 
ail  the  Sclavouian  races.  Many  pilgrimages  were  made  to  it, 
and  Monday  in  each  week  specially  consecrated  to  her  honour. 
The  prayer  used  by  the  pious  pilgrims  has  been  preserved 
They  invoked  the  blessed  Cunegunda  at  the  same  time  with 
the  glorious  Virgin  Mary  and  St.  Glare.  More  than  three 
centuries  after  her  death  the  devotion  towards  her  was  so  far 
from  haf  ing  declined  or  chilled,  that  Stgismu^id,  king  of  Poland 
in  1628,  addressed  a  most  urgent  letter  to  Pope  Urban  VIII. 
to  obtain  the  official  canonization  of  her  whom  the  Poles  had 
for  80  long  a  time  proclaimed  as  their  tutelary  Saint.  In 
1690,  Alexa*^der  VIII.  approved  of  the  public  yeneration 
paid  to  her,  and  later  still,  Clement  IX.  recognised  her 
solemnly  as  Patroness  of  Poland  and  Lithuania. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  House  of  Hungar)  had  been  in  a  mm 
ner  destined  to  rear  up  for  Heaven  saintly  princesses  of  liin 
blessed  race,  toarried,  as  was  our  Elizabeth,  to  the  Sovereigns 
«f  distant  cou^trits,  and  some  of  whom,  if  they  themselves 
did  not  shine  with  speual  glory,  were  at  least  worthy  of  being 
the  mothers  of  SstiutSo 

Tbua  Yolande,  sister  of  Elu.  Icth,  wai  married  to  tht  kin| 


'   i 


or    BUWaABT. 


nvf 


tf  Amgonf  Jatnen  the  Comqutror^  And  was  granf) mother  to  St 
Rlizabetb  of  PortngHl ;  and  Contitance,  ti^ttT  of  King  Andruw 
waa  mother  of  ...lat  Agnea  of  Bohemia,  whoae  niagnifici'iit  cu* 
(og'ium  by  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  we  linve  al  ady  rvm',  Aflor 
having  refuted  tlie  hand  of  the  King  u('  Rnglu  I  ^ho  King  uf 
ihe  Roman*,  and  the  Emperor  Frederic  11^  even  at  the  ri >k  ot 
exposing  her  country  to  the  scourge  of  war,  after  having 
passed  forty-six  years  in  her  monastery,  cinctured  \v'h  tho 
cord  of  St.  Fm  <oi%  nnd  after  having  walked  barefooted  m  tho 
paths  of  Si.  (jiai*.  fuid  St.  Elisabeth,  in  the  most  exeinji  try 
practir*e  of  h)  'lility,  of  poverty,  and  of  charity,  Agnes  died  iL 
i'28*',,  .'  nd  has  4ver  since  been  venerated  in  Bohemia  and 
Oerniatiy  as  a  Saint,  even  though  the  Holy  Bee  did  not 
accede  to  the  petition  made  for  her  canonization  by  the  Em- 
peror  Charlen  IV.,  whose  life  was  twice  saved  by  her  invoca- 
tion. 

As  to  St  Elizabeth  of  Portugal,  it  would  take  a  volume  to 
relate  the  many  most  interesting  and  moving  anecdotes  of  her 
glorious  life ;  and  we  can  dedicate  to  it  but  a  few  pages.  Born 
in  1271,  of  Peter  king  of  Arragon  and  Constance  of  Sicity, 
r.he  seemed  as  if  predestined  for  heavenly  glory  by  the  name 
which  was  given  her,  for  contrary  to  the  then  existing  cnstom 
in  Spain  of  calling  princesses  after  their  mothers  or  g^nd- 
mothers,  she  was  named  Elizabeth  after  the  dear  Saint  who  was 
her  father's  maternal  aunt.  She  was  married  at  the  age  of 
fifteen  years,  to  Denis,  king  of  Portugal  ;  but  far  from  finding 
as  di<l  her  holy  patron^s  a  spouse  worthy  of  her,  she  was  for 
h  ioiig  time  aflQicted  by  his  bad  treatment  and  grieved  by  his 
irfidelity. 

Yet  this  made  her  but  more  earnest  in  fulfilling  her  duties 
as  a  wife ;  she  soujfhc  to  reform  the  king  by  increased  affection 
and  analterable  patience. 

When  her  ladies  reproached  her  with  treating  bis  fanlts  too 
toniently,  she  woM  reply  :  '*  If  the  king  «ins,  am  I  to  U 


M* 


«00 


LIFX    OT    ST.    tLISABITIf, 


patience,  and  thos  add  mj  transgressions  to  bis  ?  I  love  better 
lo  confide  my  sorrows  to  God  and  His  holy  Saints,  and  to 
.  itriTe  to  win  back  my  hnsband  by  gentleness.^  She  carried 
indulgence  and  resignation  to  such  a  degree,  as  even  to  Kiuile 
upon  the  king's  mistresses,  and  to  bring  op  bis  natural  chil- 
dren with  her  own,  with  great  solicitude  for  their  present  uud 
Ihture  welfare. 

The  eldest  of  the  king's  l^itimate  children,  indignant  at 
his  father's  conduct,  rerolted  against  him.    Denis  persisted 
in  accnsing  Eiizai)eth  of  being  an  accomplice  in  this  proceed- 
ing ;  he  deprived  her  of  her  dower  and  all  her  wealth,  and 
confined  her  in  a  fortress.     No  sooner  was  sj^e  deliyered  from 
this  nnjust  captirity,  than  she  directed  all  her  energies  to  effect 
a  reconciliation  between  her  hasband  and  her  son  ;  finding 
her  efforts  useless,  she  selected  the  moment  when  the  army  of 
the  king  and  that  of  the  Infant  were  ranged  in  battle  array, 
and  just  about  to  engage  in  the  strife,  to  mount  her  horse, 
and  to  ride  alone  between  the  two  lines,  amid  a  shower  of 
arrows  ;  she  entreated  the  combatants  to  suspend  hostilities. 
The  soldiers,  less  inexorable  than  their  masters,  were  affected 
'Oj  so  much  devotion  ;  they  laid  down  their  arms,  and  thus 
forced  the  father  and  son  to  make  terms  of  peace.     Some  time 
after  she  restored  union  between  two  of  her  sons  who  were 
engaged  in  a  sanguinary  war  ;  then  between  her  brother,  the 
king  of  Arragon,  and  her  son-in-law,  the  king  of  Castile,  for  at 
^e  solicitation  of  tlie  Spanish  people  she  became  mediatrix 
between  their  sovereigns.    Thus  she  merited  the  noble  title 
decreed  to  her  by  the  universal  Church,  "  Mother  of  peace 
And  of  the  country.     Elisabeth  pads  et  patriae  makr," 

Her  husband  having  fallen  dangerously  ill,  she  tended  hira 
with  the  most  affectionate  care  and  received  his  last  sigh. 
Immediately  after  she  assumed  the  habit  of  the  Third  Order 
of  St.  Frauds,  which  for  many  years  she  had  kept  enclosed 
in  a  casket,  and  which  from  the  first  day  of  her  widowhood 


PW    aUKaARV. 


^l 


locame  1  er  onl}  costume.  She  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Com* 
postella  for  the  eternal  rei)ose  of  the  soul  of  her  husband,  and 
offered  for  that  intention  the  crown  of  precious  stones  which 
i)ie  had  worn  on  her  wedding-day. 

She  passed  the  remainder  of  her  life  ia  the  practice  of  all 
firtaes,  rivalling  her  holy  Patroness  in  charity,  austerity,  and  > 
it  the  faithful  observance  of  all  the  ceremonies  of  the  Church. 
She  lovod  to  listen  to  the  solemo  ofl&ces  and  the  eeclesiastical 
chaunt,  and  every  day  assisted  at  two  Masses  with  music. 
A  year  before  her  death  she  wished  to  revisit  the  shrine  of 
St.  James  of  Compostella,  but  on  foot,  disguised  as  a  peasant, 
and  begging  her  bread  as  she  went  along,  that  she  might  not 
he  recognised  by  the  people,  nor  ej^KMed  tc  their  veneration. 
In  1336,  her  son,  the  *king  of  Portugal,  having):  declared  wai 
against  her  son-in-law,  the  king  of  Castile,  she  resolved,  des- 
pite of  her  great  age,  to  employ  her  remaining  strength  in 
walkuig  for  seven  days  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  tbcm 
She  acliievad  this  last  victoiy,  bnt  the  fatigue  of  the  journey, 
thus  accomplished  during  the  great  heat  of  summer,  brought 
her  to  the  verge  of  the  tomb.  **  Behold,*  said  she  on  the  ev« 
of  her  death,  "  behold  the  blessed  Virgin  in  her  snow-whitd 
robe,  who  comes  to  announce  my  happiness." 

She  died  on  the  8th  of  July.  Three  centuries  after  her 
demise  she  was  canonized  by  Pope  Urban  YIII.  with  great 
solemnity,  and  that  holy  Pontiflf  composed  in  her  honour  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  oflfices  in  the  Roman  liturgy.  Thus  was 
twice  blessed  and  consecrated  in  Heaven  and  on  earth  thfi 
dear  name  of  Elizabeth  which  we  have  so  often  repeated, 
bnt  which  we  have  written  e^ch  time  with  new  and  sweet 
•iBOiioii. 


h-    ■■'  . 


f 


-.••'.««(' 


■•-■.<^S'-JL 


$e& 


in    OV    IT.     BLICABBTB, 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

irOBLI  CBURCH  THAT  WAS  ERECTED  AT  MARBFItO  IH  nONOri 
«lr  THE  DEAR  ST.  ELIZABETH  ;  AND  HOW  HER  PRECIOUS  RELICS  WBBI 
raOFAMBD ;   AND  ALSO  THE  CONCLUSION  OW  THIS  BISTORT. 


1!li:t 


Ave  femma  specioM 
Mnlieriim  sidus,  rosa, 
Ez  regali  atirpo  lute 
None  In  eolin  coronate 
SaWe  rosa  pietetis, 
Salve  flos  Ilangarita, 
Salve  fulf ens  margarlteT 
In  ccelesti  aede  idta; 
Roga  rcgem  M i^eatetls 
Ut  nos  salvet  liodie 
Lumen  mittens  eiultatlt 
Ao  ooslestb  gratia. 

Ancient  C^ghe  qf&,  OtBab^lh, 

Ik  the  bosom  of  a  valley  watered  by  the  siWery  Lahn,  one 
eminence  stands  detached  from  the  sarroanding  heights.  The 
ancient  Gothic  castle  of  Marburg  erected  by  the  grandson  of 
Elizabeth  crowns  its  summit ;  the  houses  and  gardens  of  the 
ity  and  the  University  are  grouped,  terrace-like,  around  its 
Bides  and  at  its  foot ;  the  two  tapering  towers  and  the  high 
•oof  of  the  church  of  St.  Elizabeth  arise  between  it  and  tho 
sanks  of  the  river,  which  here  winds  around  as  if  to  encircle 
e  city.  Outside  the  gates  green  meadows,  charming  ga^ 
iens,  long  and  beautiful  avenues,  attract  the  attention  of  the 
traveller,  and  induce  him  to  seek  the  shade  of  the  venerable 
trees  that  cover  the  surrounding  hills,  whence  he  may  enjoy 
at  his  leisure  the  rare  beauty  of  the  landscape. 

We  know  not  if  it  be  our  affection  for  all  that  was  sancti- 
fied by  the  memory  of  Elizabeth  that  influences  us,  but  it  seeiui 


Of    lUNOART. 


40S 


U^  vm  that  out  ot  Italy  we  have  never  seen  a  site  more  pictu- 
K'sqae,  more  attractive,  mora  in  accordance  with  the  traditions 
alt»(;hed  to  it. 

Wheresoever  we  tarn  in  the  neighbonrhood  of  Marbarg  we  , 
we  find  the  same  beauties  under  aspects  infinitely  varied. 

The  Lahn  flowing  on,  calm  and  pure,  between  its  verdant 
hftnka,  the  admirable  proportions  of  the  Cathedral,  its  majestic 
ehvation  over  all  that  surrounds  it,  the  graceful  and  picturelike 
arrangement  of  the  old-fashioned  houses,  with  the  towers  of  the 
ancient  castle,  all  tend  to  fix  the  attention ;  we  imagine  we  see 
realized  some  of  the  exquisite  scenery  which  the  illuminations 
of  old  missals  and  the  paintings  of  the  ancient  Catholic  Schools 
still  depict  to  us  in  the  background  of  the  views  which  they 
represent 

It  seems  to  us,  then,  almost  impossible  not  to  love  and  ad- 
mire  the  noble  city  of  Marburg,  even  when  visiting  it  without 
any  idea  of  the  treasures  it  contains,  but  how  ranch  more  when 
we  seek  there  the  traces  of  the  dear  St.  Elizabeth ;  when  we  find 
memorials  of  her  on  every  side ;  when  we  learn  that  her  name 
is  enshrined  in  every  heart,  on  every  lip,  and  connected  with 
every  monument.  There  still  remain  some  portions  of  the  con- 
vent and  the  hospital  founded  by  her ;  these  buildings,  now  so 
dilapidated,  were  for  a  long  time  the  residence  of  the  Commander 
of  the  Teutonic  Order  in  Hesse ;  they  are  situated  between  the 
church  and  the  river,  and  present  an  antique,  picturesque  ap- 
pearance. Amongst  them,  one  is  most  remarkable  from  its  point- 
ed gables;  it  is  called  the  Firmaney  (Infirmary),  and  tradition, 
supported  by  the  opinions  of  several  historians,  points  this  out  as 
the  place  where  Elizabeth  died.  The  city  gate  nearest  the  church 
is  called  St.  Elizabeth's  gate ;  at  a  little  distance  outside  it,  on 
the  road  leading  to  Welirda,  the  passenger  perceives  a  fountain 
with  a  triple  jet,  which  is  named  Eliaabethabrum..  It  was 
there  she  was  accitstcined  to  wash  the  garments  of  the  poor; 


404 


LIIB    or    ST.    BIItABETH 


iil  :|t 


M  ir  B 


a  large  blue  stone  on  which  she  used  to  kneel  when  eii^rn^^r,. 
in  this  laborious  occupation  was  removed  to  the  Church,  aiu 
is  still  to  be  seen  there.  Pnrther  on  he  arrives  at  Eiiza'nfir 
bridge,  at  a  little  distance  from  it  he  sees  Elizabeth'' »  mill^ 
buildings  which  were  erected,  most  probably,  during  the  1iie*| 
lime  of  the  Saint.  At  the  other  side  of  the  city,  the  ])alii-| 
way  of  the  road  from  Cassel  crosses  a  bridge,  passes  the  liill 
whereon  the  castle  was  built,  and  winding  under  tlic  slmdy 
groV66  of  the  botanic  garden,  leads  to  the  front  of  the  c)iur<h  ; 
this  path  is  still  called  the  pilgrim's  stone,  (Pilgrimstein.)  It 
is  a  memorial  of  the  long  files  of  pilgrims  who,  during  tlirec 
centuries  used  to  come  ft'ora  all  parts  of  Germany,  and  cveri 
from  the  most  distant  lands  of  Christendom,  to  visit  the  holy 
shilne ;  and  whose  confluence  there  contributed  so  much  to 
the  prosperity  of  Marburg,  which  was,  before  that  time,  but 
an  tin  walled  town. 

Even  the  serere  Oonrtid  bM  befe  his  place  in  the  popular 
memory ;  a  fountain  ^Ilod  Manehsbrunn,  is  snrmountcd  by 
his  statue  draped  in  a  monk's  habit,  with  a  large  open  book 
resting  On  his  heart ;  the  people  say  that  each  night  at  twelve 
o'clock  he  turns  a  page  of  this  volome. 

But  it  is  time  to  speak  of  the  celebrated  chottih  which  is 
here,  the  great  bionument  of  Eliuibcth's  glory.  It  is  erected, 
as  we  have  already  said,  upon  the  lj8>nks  of  the  Lahn,  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  whereon  stands  the  castle,  and  in  front 
of  a  rocky  eminence  which  serves  to  connect  this  kind  of  prom- 
ontory with  the  neighbouring  hills.  The  ground  al)Out  it  is 
marshy,  and  must  have  presented  immense  difficulties  to  the 
architect ;  but  it  would  be  impossible  to  point  out  a  better 
site,  or  one  more  calculated  to  display  the  beauties  of  the 
edifice,  or  in  which  the  building  could  tend  more  to  embellish 
the  appearance  of  the  city  aud  surrounding  scenery.  The 
traveller  should  walk  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  successively 
itudy  the  different  points  of  view,  *.o  appreciate  how  mach  tbi 


:l     1 


or    nVHOAET. 


40< 


tituation  contributes  to  the  exquiMte  appeatttnoe  of  ita  no- 
ble inonunient;  and  the  result  ot'  his  exAiuination  would 
Ik  the  thought  thnt  it  would  b«  almost  iinposftiblc  to  discover 
I  inor«  appropi'i}ite  site.  Tiiis  discnmiiiation  iu  choosing  a 
luilable  foundatioQ  was  a  distinctive  feature  in  the  erection 
of  all  the  gorgeous  piK^s  left  us  by  our  Catholic  forufuthero. 
Ti\e  beauty  of  the  church  and  the  extraordinary  advantages 
Lt'  its  position  have  given  rise  to  many  popular  traditiotts 
'respecting  its  origin;  according  to  these  it  was  £Iixabeth 
who  first  entertained  the  idea  of  erecting  a  church ;  she 
wished  that  it  siiould  be  built  on  the  height  of  a  rock,  still 
called  Kircktp%t»6^  whioh  overtops  the  actual  edifice;  she 
wished  also  to  erect  there  a  gigantic  tower,  with  a  bell  that 
might  be  heard  in  Hungary.  But  all  her  efforts  were  Tain; 
the  ground  was  examined  in  different  directional,  but  it  was 
found  impossible  even  to  lay  the  foundations,  aiid  the  old  story 
fiays,  that  the  work  performed  daring  the  day  was  destroyed 
every  nighk  At  length,  one  day,  she  lifted  a  Btone,  almoRt 
impatiently,  and  threw  it  from  the  rock,  declaring  at  the  sarne 
time,  that  wherever  that  should  fall  she  would  erect  the 
church.  The  stone  rested  on  the  Bpot  where  the  magnificent 
huilding  is  to  be  seen  at  this  day  ;  her  labourers  commenced 
immediately  and  their  work  proceeded  prosperously.  This 
tradition  receives  some  confirmation  from  the  marshy  nature 
of  the  soil  in  which  the  foundations  were  laid,  which  wonld 
have  been  quite  suflBcient  to  deter  any  one  from  building 
there  without  being  actuated  by  some  supernatural  motive* 

The  people  also  relate  that  daring  the  long  period  oecnpied 
in  erecting  this  vast  edifice,  tlie  funds  contributed  to  defray 
•11  the  exi)ense8  for  the  building  were  kept  in  aa  unlocked 
(host,  from  which  every  man  could  take  what  was  justly  dne 
to  him  ;  and  if  cupidity  induced  any  one  to  commit  fraud  by 
taking  more  than  his  right,  the  money  would  vauish  from  him 
and  return  to  the  coffer.  An  expressive  fltymbol  of  the  feeUiigi 


iW 


LIFB    or    IT.    ELIXABBTS, 


i    I 


of  faith  and  disinterestediiessi  which  the  modern  gcncratio 
•eem  to  have  lost,  and  with  them  the  power  of  rivallimr  []^^, 
wonders  of  Christian  architecture. 

Let  us  now  approach   the  church,  through  a  gnrd«  n 
roses — flowers   which   here,  as   well   as  at   Wartburg.  ficn 
specially  consecrated  to  Elizabeth.     Let  us  first  mention  thai 
the  foundation  stone  of  the  noble  pile  was  laid  by  tin*  (r.,,,, 
Landgrave  Conrad  on  the  vigil  of  the  Assumption  in  tiio  vcar 
1235,  some  months  after  the  canonization  of  the  Saint,  anil 
that  this  date  makes  the  church  of  Saint  Elizabeth  tlie  tiistl 
that  was  erected  in  Germany  entirely  in  the  purely  point 
ed  style.      It  required  twenty  years  to  lay  the  foundations,! 
and  twenty-eight  more  to   build  the  essential   parts,  wiijcli 
were    not    finished    until   1283.      The    interior,  the    spii  :>», 
and  the  magnificent  whole,  which  we  admire  at  the  present 
day,  were  not  completed  until  during  the  fourteenth  century. 
The  church  is  230  feet  long,  83  wide ;  the  foundations  are 
40  feet  in  depth ;  the  height  of  the  interior  vaulted  roof  is 
70  feet,  and  that  of  the  two  towers  with  their  spires  303 
feet. 

What  particularly  strikes  the  eye  on  entering  this  build- 
ing is  the  admirable  harmony  of  all  its  parts,  as  well  interiorly 
as  exteriorly  ;  in  this  respect  it  is  unrivalled.  Though  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  elapsed  before  it  was  completed,  one  mir^lit 
imagine  that  it  sprung  in  a  single  day  from  the  mould  of  Die 
boly  and  vigorous  mind  that  conceived  it.  It  is  the  monu- 
ment, not  alone  the  most  ancient,  but  also  the  most  pure  and 
perfect  of  pointed  architecture  in  Germany,  and  we  think  that 
throughout  Europe  there  is  not  another  edifice  so  utterly 
free  from  the  influence  of  new  styles  foreign  to  its  spirit,  as 
well  as  from  all  admixture  of  the  forms  that  preceded  or  fol 
lowed  it. 

We  find  here  no  trace  of  the  arch  called  Roman  or  Byzan 
tint,  except  in  *  little  lateral  door  of  the  nave,  and  it  is  the"( 


•T    BUirOARr, 


iM 


tint  the  effect  of  a  saperabnndance  of  fiower-shaped  omamentt, 
which  hare  in  a  very  slight  degree  altered  the  character  of  tht 
beautiful,   simply-pointed  arch. 

From  this  rare  and  wonderful  unity  in  the  excellent  pro* 
])ortions  of  the  edifice  there  results  an  admirable  whole,  which 
toiids  to  create  emotions  of  piety  and  interior  recollection, 
from  which  even  the  souls  of  men  who  are  too  frequently  uttei 
strangers  to  the  religious  inspirations  of  art,  can  with  difficult; 
escape. 

When  straying  under  these  arches,  at  once  so  light  and 
simple,  yet  so  solid,  in  the  silence  and  desolation  which  per- 
vades the  vast  enclosure,  when  tasting,  as  it  were,  the  calm 
and  freshness  which  reigns  throughout  it,  we  can  almost  im- 
agine that  we  are  breathing  the  same  atmosphere  with  Eliza- 
beth  ;  and  we  can  well  recognise  in  this  monument  erected  to 
commemorate  her  glory,  the  most  faithful  representation  of 
her  personal  character.  The  incidents  of  her  holy  life  seem 
all  reflected  in  it.  We  find  there,  as  in  herself,  something 
humble,  yet  at  the  same  time  aspiring — something  at  once 
graceful  and  austere,  which  charms  us,  whilst  it  also  excites 
some  feelings  of  awe.  The  stones,  all  consecrated  and  marked 
with  the  pontifical  cross,  resemble  so  many  acts  of  her  life  all 
elevated  to  God  in  Heaven,  whilst  she  strove  to  detach  her 
heart  from  everything  that  could  enchain  it  to  the  earth.  All 
in  this  holy  place  tends  to  inspire  fervour  and  a  love  of  sim 
plicity,  the  marked  features  of  Elizabeth's  character.  Indeed 
we  feel  almost  tempted  to  believe  with  the  people,  despite  of 
the  testimony  of  historic  dates,  that  to  her  we  may  attribute 
tiie  idea,  the  plan,  and  even  the  erection  of  this  glorious  edi- 
fice ;  and  more  particularly,  when  there  exists  not  the  record 
of  the  name  of  any  architect,  mason,  or  workman  of  %ny  kind 
whatsoever,  who  was  engaged  during  a  period  of  more  than 
fifty  years,  on  this  immense  undertaking.  They  seem  to  have 
:aken  the  same  puns  to  hide  themselves  from  tl>e  praise  of 


m 


408 


Liyi    or    8T      ILIfABITH, 


posteHty,  tliat  vain  men  do  to  render  tbeir  fntrigniflcant  wnrl 
eternal. 

How  sublimely  nameless  I  they  songfit  biit  to  racrcifo  t)io]| 
glory  ill  tbat  of  the  dear  Saiut,  the  beloved  of  Christ  and  of  ih( 
poor;  and  when  their  Iab<:»riou8  task  was  completed,  thoy  .li.Mii 
as  they  bad  lived,  unknowing,  unknown;  in  the  simpliritv  od 
Uieir  heai'ta  forgetting  all  but  God  and  Elizabeth,  and  unrc 
membered  by  all  save  Hiin  and  her. 

Wben  seeking  their  names,  »nd  finding  onr  researthct 
naeless,  we  become  aware  that  higher  feelings  than  those  do 
nT»ble  from  the  success  of  materlgj  efforts,  or  from  the  gcniu!) 
of  cultivated  miu4s  goycrned  by  purely  homt^Q  motives,  anima 
ted  the  builders  of  these  houses  of  Qod,  (truly  worthy  of  that 
name,)  which  were  erected  before  the  miserable  degradai.on 
fif  ecclesiastical  architecture,  duriag  md  since  the  16th  cen- 
tury. We  discover  the  uitspeakable  ejects  of  the  mysterious 
And  superior  life,  produced  in  these  fruits  of  the  ancient  power 
Qf  our  faith,  and  we  find  ourselves  repeating  th^  words  of 
Saint  Augustine  :  "  No  one  could  enter  here  if  these  beams 
find  these  stones  did  not  adhere  to  each  other  in  a  certain 
order — ^if  they  were  not  cemented  by  a  pacific  cohesion— if, 
JO  to  speak,  they  *did  not  love  each  other.*^ 

If  we  might  define  in  a  few  words  what  appears  to  ns  to 
be  the  distinctive  character  of  this  church  of  Saint  Elizabeth, 
we  would  say  that  it  is  a  virginal  simplicity  and  purity.  The 
Irue  Christian  architecture  is  to  be  se«n  there  in  all  its  primi- 
tive beauty,  in  all  its  youthful  grace,  newly  blooming  in  tlie 
JOK  light  of  faith.  In  comparing  it  with  tho  gorgeous  and 
more  recently  built  Cathedrals  of  Straaboor^  Cologne,  Amiens, 
Saliabury,  iScc.,  with  all  th^ase  varied  typea  of  the  iminoriai 
apottso  of  Ohriftt,  we  imagine  a  di0»pance,  auch  aa  that  wliicli 
asiits  between  the  modeet  gamienta  ni  a  g^tle  maiden,  who 
ibr  the  fiist  time  appro*Bbes  the  holv  tftUe,  Mid  the  brilliant 
f  estare  of  a  beauteous  bride. 


or    UVMOART. 


We  must  be  excnaed  for  insetting  a  ivw  pwticulAra  rc«peot> 
jiir  ibis  churck.  The  exterior,  wiiiuk  hm  the  advauUige  of 
being  totally  sepArated  front  all  odier  builtiingn,  ofivra  to  ui  Jit 
p.  iiiiarity  of  two  ranges  of  windowti  one  above  the  othor# 
vliilst  the  height  of  the  lateral  tratle  of  the  interior  it  not  <lo« 
Uacted  from  bjr  any  gallery  or  dlTiHiiui).  Theie  windows  art 
limply  two  points  united,  surmouaied  by  a  cbole,  and  encloied 
io  a  greafter  Oghe ;  od  Mrangeoietit  which  eiaotly  reminda  the 
traveller  of  the  senne  u  xe  srulmi  wiadows  of  the  Cathedralr 
of  Vita  nnd  Sienoa,  cf  Or-San-Miehele,  and  the  Palazzo  Strozai^ 
iiid  those  of  tnoBt  of  the  edifices  of  the  middle  ages  in  Italy, 
We  find  I  ere  neither  pinnacles  nor  abutments,  nor  any  of  th<i 
ornaments  of  the  later  Gothic  styles.  The  princii>al  or  western 
front  is  of  the  most  exqnisite  simplicity ;  it  is  composed  of  ^ 
rpacious  portal,  snrmonnted  by  a  large  window  and  a  triangu* 
lar  gable,  flanked  by  two  towers  with  their  lofty  spim  of  ad^ 
mirably  pure  6tyle  And  synrmetrlcul  fbrm. 

The  niche  over  the  portal  is  occupied  by  a  beaoiiftil  staittM 
of  the  Ble$»«d  Virgin,  the  special  Protectress  of  the  Teutonic 
Order.  She  is  represented  as  crushing  tinder  foot  the  vicei 
and  sins  under  the  forms  of  Kttle  monsters;  from  her  feet,  at 
the  right  side,  proceeds  a  rine  laden  with  an  abundance  of 
grapes,  and  at  the  left,  a  rose-tree  coreted  wHh  blossomsi, 
wlierein  are  little  birds;  On  either  side  a  kneeling  angel  rener- 
att's  this  Queen,  victorious  orer  sin,  and  the  unfailing  source  of 
tliy  fruits  of  truth  and  the  flowers  of  beauty.  Tlie  execution 
equals  the  touching  grace  and  mystic  meaning  of  this  figure* 
The  foliage  of  the  capitals,  and  the  tracery  wreathing  tire  arch 
cf  this  portal,  are  exquisitely  delicate.  The  two  towers  con- 
tain seven  bells,  the  smallest  of  which  is  silver,  and  these  form 
the  most  harmonious  chimes. 

On  entering  the  church  we  are  surprised  to  find  h  divided 
tuto  a  nave  and  aisles  of  equal  height     This  pecaliaH^, 
18 


i) 


->' 


410 


LIFI    OF    ST.    ■IIXABITII, 


^i!'  i  r 


wYiich  IS  rarely  discernible  in  the  vast  basillcM  of  the  in  iMle 
agcfl,  appears  to  have  been  a  distinctive  feature  of  the  ehu. .  1,. « 
of  the  Teutonic  Order,  and  to  have  been  iatrodaceU  iut(.  di 
their  foundations  in  Prussia. 

We  are  also  pleased  to  find  here  the  natural  colour  of  Uw 
■tone,  which  no  vile  plaster  has  ever  tarnished,  either  v\  itiiiu 
the  building  or  on  its  exterior. 

We  everywhere  perceive  the  joining  of  the  cut  stone  ;  we 
admire  the  marvellous  union  of  solidity  and  lightness  wliicli 
permitted  the  orehitect  to  leave  the  lateral  walls,  iu  some 
places  of  two  feet,  in  others  of  eighteen  inches  only,  in  tiiick* 
ness.  A  double  row  of  columns  marks  the  division  of  the 
three  parts  ;  each  is  simply  composed  of  four  colonettt  g. 
Theijr  capitals  are  carved  wreaths  of  vine,  ivy,  roses,  a, ul 
trefoils,  and  these  are  the  only  ornaments  the  sculptor  has 
admitteii.  A  little  wooden  statue,  representing  the  dear  Saint 
holding  the  model  of  a  church  in  her  bands,  rests  agniust  one 
of  the  pillars  iu  the  nave. 

The  church  is,  as  it  ought  to  be,  in  the  form  of  *.  jross ;  the 
choir  and  the  transept,  or  the  two  arms  of  tho  cross,  are  teritn- 
nated  by  polygonal  niches.  The  choir  is  closed  by  a  tribuno 
in  wood-work,  with  statuettes  of  great  beauty.  The  principal 
altar,  consecrated  on  the  1st  of  May,  1290,  is  perfectly  in  kee|)- 
ing  with  the  rest  of  the  building,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  Coro- 
nation of  the  Bicssed  Virgin  in  relievo. 

The  windows  of  the  choir  are  filled  with  superb  stainod 
glass — not  representing,  as  would  be  the  case  in  a  church  of 
later  construction,  historic  scenes,  or  holy  personages — Unt 
simply  flowers  and  foliage,  which,  in  the  judgment  of  some 
persons,  are  the  most  suitable  subjects  for  painted  glass.  Tli« 
remainder  of  the  stained  wijidows  were  destroyed  by  the  army 
of  his  most  Christian  majesty  Louis  XV.,  who,  in  the  sevrn 
years'  war,  converted  this  church  into  a  store  for  forage. 

On  the  four  deserted  altars  in  the  transept,  we  remark 


■OW    UUNOART. 


in 


Lljecis  in  painting  and  sculpture,  representing  the  principal 
events  of  tile  Saint's  life,  as  well  as  the  legends  of  St.  John 
tbo  Baptiht,  and  Su  Goorgo,  parts  of  which  are  attributed  to 
I  All>crt  Durer,  but  which  are,  in  our  opinion,  the  work  of  some 
irti&t  previous  to  his  time,  and  of  a  taste  more  purely  religioua 
liiiin  his  was.  These  are  gilt  in  alto-relievo^  and  covered  by 
t.  reen»  of  wood  painted  on  both  sides  with  simple  but  most 
imitrcssive  subjects,  some  of  which,  however,  have  been  too  fre- 
quently retouched.  We  discover  amongst  them  the  miracle 
of  the  mantle  given  by  Elizabeth  to  the  bcggarman  when  she 
was  going  to  the  banquet  hall ;  the  miracle  of  the  leper  mid 
on  her  husband's  bed  ;  the  last  embrace  of  Elizabeth  and 
Louis  wheu  be  was  departing  for  the  Crusade  ;  her  expalsiob 
from  Wartburg  ;  her  fall  in  the  muddy  stream  at  Eisenach  ; 
the  visit  of  Count  Ban6  ;  her  taking  of  the  religious  habit ; 
&c.  The  relievi  represent  her  death,  her  obsequies,  and  the 
translation  of  her  relics  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor. 
These  three  are  evidently  the  work  of  an  artist  worthy  of 
such  subjects. 

In  the  southern  arm  of  the  cross,  we  perceive  the  tombs 
of  the  princes  of  the  houses  of  Thuringia  and  Hesse,  who  had 
sought  the  honour  of  being  interred  near  their  illustrions 
ancestress.  "  In  this  palace  of  the  Supreme  King,"  says  an 
historian,  "  Elizabeth,  His  royal  spouse,  was  the  first  buried  ; 
and  afterwards  there  were  admitted  there  several  other  fellow- 
citizens  of  the  Saints,  and  faithful  servants  of  God,  destined 
to  rise  with  her  from  their  tombs  at  the  last  day,  to  rejoice 
with  her  in  eternal  glory.''  Her  director.  Conrad  of  Mar> 
burg ;  Adelaide,  daughter  of  Count  Albert  of  Brunswick, 
a  very  holy  woman  and  renowned  even  for  miracles  ;  Brother 
Gerard,  provincial  of  the  Franciscans,  who  had  led  a  remark* 
ably  austere  life, — here  also  reposed  near  Elizabeth.  There 
now  remains  no  trace  of  their  burial  places,  but  we  find  in 
great  preaerraUon  the  beautiful  monuments  of  the  good  Land 


I 

ill 


it% 


Lll 


m 


gmve  Conrad,  brotlMr4ihkv  of  Um  8«iat,  witk  h\%  dU  ihiin*! 
!■  hb  htnd  ;  Ch»t  of  ike  Docheis  Sophia,  daofflitrr  nf  i;);>a 
bftb,  tb«  face  of  which  ii  alinoet  worn  awajr  flrom  the  ki^  <  ni 
of  the  pilfrrimi;  and  tb«  Wmtis  of  fifteen  oilier  pr'uwAs  i.i.il 
priocefses  of  Hesse  from  the  tSth  to  the  16thccuturiu»— mul 
Miongflt  tbcro  we  cannot  but'adinire  that  of  the  Laiitl^rriiv.; 
Qeury  IIL,  niyled  the  Bully,  who  died  in  1370,  whou  btan.e 
is  sculptured  upon  the  sauie  ttone  with  the  truly  Uiiiuiitul  >»Ui: 
of  his  wifd  Eluufcbeth;  three  little  aogeJi  sustain  and  Hino.i;|i 
the  piitow  on  which  their  hends  reposoi  while  monks  and  nuns, 
kneelii  g  at  their  feet,  rc«d  prayers  fur  their  souls*  weul. 

In  ine  of  the  angles  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  Cr*>i» 
towards  the  north,  is  the  Ohapel  whene  the  rt'lios  of  tiio 
Ueieed  Saint  herself  were  deposited;  this  ohapid  forms  a  kin<l 
of  long  square  portico  with  four  aruhoe,  two  of  which  rest 
against  the  wall  of  the  aiche,  and  the  other  two  are  exposed. 
The  hiterior  tanlting  of  the  bcantifhl  roof  is  pointed,  but  the 
sumoiit  of  the  entire  square  ie  flat  and  terminated  by  a  high 
balustrade,  and  frcn  this,  the  relics  were,  doubtless,  exposed 
to  the  people,  or  else  it  serred  as  a  place  for  the  musicians  on 
great  f:3ti?al8.  Chisternig  foliage,  seolptured  and  gilt  on  an 
ainre  ground,  wreathes  around  the  rising  of  the  arches,  con- 
oeals  the  sharpness  of  the  anglet,  and  thus  eontrasts  with  tli« 
plainnesB  of  the  other  portions  of  th<rohurch.  In  a  space  be- 
tween the  arches  and  the  square  there  may  be  seen  a  frt6<o 
representing  the  coronation  of  Elizabeth  in  Heaven  ;  it  h 
partly  effuccd,  and  of  the  inscription  it  is  now  hnpomible  to 
decipher  more  than  the  words  :  gloria  Trbutonii.  On  the 
lateral  ba«e  of  the  chapel  is  a  bas-relief  which  merits  particu- 
Inr  attention,  as  well  for  its  antiquity,  for  it  is  probably  the 
work  of  an  artist  coeval  with  oar  Saint,  as  for  the  char 
•eter  of  exquisite  simplicity  by  which  H  ia  distinguished. 
Blizabeth  'a  represented  as  dead,  and  laid  In  her  coffin,  witb 
her  bands  gently  cmssed  jpon  her  boscn.    Our  Lord,  witlr 


(ht  holj  Virgin  by  bit  tiUk,  m  stjunttng  nmLf  tbe  bivr  ;  Ui« 
loilof  Elifabeih  onder  the  fonn  of  •  child.  Mwij  bom,  btil 
ftlraad/  crowned  with  giory,  if  prceecteil  bjr  iwt  gtmrdiaa 
lugel  to  Chritti  who  Hfta  Ilia  haad  to  bleu  her  ;  Mother 
tngelecatterRinceuie  troaud  ;  oar  Lady  loolcs  lovingly  on  hcf 
ductlt  and  humble  papil ;  by  her  tide  ia  a  bearded  niun,  with 
tt  ianee  iu  liaud,  and  wearing  the  bodge  of  u  Crusiider,  rvpr** 
geuting  either  the  good  Dnlte  Loaii,  or  the  peaitent  Coorad 
At  tbe  right  itauds  St.  John  the  Kvungeliiit,  special  friend 
»ud  pntrou  of  tbe  Saint ;  St  Catherioe,  and  St.  Peter  with 
tlie  keys  of  Paradise.  On  the  left,  St.  John  the  Baptist,  St 
Mary  Magdalene,  and  a  Bishop,  mppoied  to  be  Sigefrid  of 
Mayeuca.  It  was  before  this  bas-relief  that  the  Pilgrims  used 
to  kneeli  aud  the  stone  is  still  to  be  seen,  hollowed  and  worn 
Trom  their  knees. 

The  shriuo  in  wbioh  tbe  relics  of  tlie  Saint  were  preserfed 
was  placed  above  this  bas-relief,  and  protected  by  a  grating, 
which  still  exists.  It  is  now  removed  to  tbe  sacristy,  which  is 
between  the  choir  and  the  northern  transept  The  shrine  ia 
oa9  of  the  most  wonderful  productions  of  the  goldsmith's  skill 
in  the  middle  agea  Wo  know  not  the  name  of  its  maker,  any 
more  than  tlu&t  of  tha  architect  of  the  church.  It  is  iu  tho 
furm  of  a  Gothic  house,  with  a  donblo-gablud  roof,  a  parallel* 
ogram,  six  feet  long,  two  feet  wide,  and  three  feet  and  a  half 
high.  It  ia  of  oak  wood,  covered  with  silver  gilt ;  the  twf 
narrow  sides  form  portals,  uudsr  one  of  wluch  is  a  statue  of 
tbe  Blessed  Yii'gin,  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  precious  stonesi 
and  holding  the  infant  Jesus  ;  under  the  other  is  the  figure 
of  St  ElUaboth,  wearing  the  religious  habit  On  ons  of  the 
)oug  sides,  Jesus  Christ  is  represented,  seated  and  teaching,', 
with  three  of  his  apostles  at  his  right  bond  and  three  at  his' 
luft  On  the  other.  Our  Lord  is  seen  upon  the  cross,  whicb 
ii  in  tba  form  of  » tree,  with  its  branches.  St,  John  and  St 
Magdaleoe  are  at  Uis  feet,  and  two  angels  crown  His  beul 


414 


LIFE    or    ST.     BLIZABBTB, 


ioff  head.  On  the  right  and  left  are  the  other  six  apostles. 
A(l  these  figures  are  surmoanted  by  richly-caryed  canopies, 
Ou  the  m<:Uued  planes  of  the  roof  are  eight  bassi-relicvi,  rep. 
resenting  as  many  scenes  in  the  life  of  the  Saint : — the  fare- 
well between  her  and  her  husband,  when  he  set  out  for  the 
Crusade — the  unexpected  discovery  of  the  cross  in  his  aims- 
purse — the  gift  of  the  ring — their  last  kiss.  These  sculptures 
and  bassi'relievi  are  of  excellent  workmanship,  and  are  wrouglit 
in  massive  silver  gilt.  An  immense  quantity  of  onyxes,  ga)> 
phires,  emeralds,  engraved  stones,  pearls,  and  other  precious 
ornaments  of  great  value,  were  incrusted  in  the  shrine  and 
in  the  drapery  of  the  statues.  The  greater  number  were 
antiques,  and  added  considerably  to  the  almost  inestimable 
value  of  a  monument,  to  which  the  piety  and  affection  of  tlio 
people  for  Elizabeth  had  contributed  so  many  treasures.  A 
great  many  engraved  gems  were  brought  from  the  East  by 
pilgrims  and  crusaders  ;  some  of  these  were  regarded  as  spon* 
taneous  productions  of  nature.  In  the  middle  ages,  innumer* 
able  supernatural  qualities  were  attributed  to  precious  stones; 
they  were  at  once  the  ornaments  most  significative  and  suita- 
ble for  the  tomb  of  a  saint.  There  was  there  an  onyx  so 
beautiful,  that,  according  to  a  very  popular  tradition,  an 
Elector  of  Mayence  had  offered  as  its  price  the  whole  town- 
■hip  of  Amoeneburg.  Notwithstanding  the  wars  and  changes 
of  religion,  there  remained  eight  hundred  and  twenty-four 
gems,  without  including  pearls,  when  in  1810  they  were 
counted  before  the  removal  ordered  by  the  Franco-Westplia- 
linr  government,  under  which  the  shrine  was  brought  to  Cas- 
eel,  where  the  most  valuable  were  removed,  to  the  number  of 
one  hundred  ai.d  seventeen.  This  shrine,  in  its  form  and 
beauty,  resembles  that  famous  one  of  St.  Sebald  at  Knmberp^, 
emamented  with  the  figures  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  by  Peter 
Piicher ;  bat  it  has  the  advantage  of  being  two  centuries 


OF    HUKOART. 


41i 


Mder,  and  we  know  not  if  there  be  elsewhere  so  wonderful  a 
work  of  Christian  art  of  so  remote  a  period. 

The  relics  of  the  Saint  reposed  in  the  shrine  which  the  faith 
and  love  of  the  Christian  people  had  endeavoured  to  render 
worthy  of  her,  until  the  miscalled  Reformation.  We  take  the 
account  of  what  then  occurred  from  two  Lutheran  historians, 
deeming  them  unprejudiced  witnesses  of  the  victories  gained 
by  what  has  since  been  styled  the  cause  of  progress  and  of  light 

On  Exaudi  Sunday,  in  the  year  1539,  the  Landgrave, 
Philip  of  Hes:«e,  a  descendant  in  a  direct  line  from  St.  Eliza- 
beth, came  to  the  church  dedicated  to  his  ancestress,  and  had 
the  new  form  of  worship  performed  there  for  the  firat  time. 
He  was  accompanied  by  Duke  Albert  of  Brunswick;  Count 
Isenburg;  a  famous  poet,  imitator  of  Ovid,  named  Eobanus 
Hessus;  Professor  Crato,  and  a  great  number  of  Teacheiv 
and  learned  men,  amongst  whom  the  Reformation  fo  ind  many 
partizans.  The  service  having  been  concluded,  he  sent  for 
the  Commander  of  the  Teutonic  Order,  who  resided  at  Mar- 
burg; this  was  the  Sire  de  Milchling,  who  was  afterwards 
elected  Grand  Master;  he  went  with  him  to  the  sacristy, 
where  the  shrine  had  been  deposited.  An  immense  multitude 
of  people  followed  them.  The  Prince  and  his  friends  having 
entered  the  sacristy,  the  Commander  closed  the  door,  to  keep 
out  the  crowd.  The  iron  grating,  inside  which  the  shrine  was 
kept,  was  shut ;  the  Commander  refused  to  open  it,  and  flung 
away  the  key ;  the  sacristan  likewise  would  not  dare  to  touch 
it.  The  Landgrave  sent  for  blacksmiths  to  bring  their  tools, 
that  they  might  destroy  the  grating ;  it  was  then  discovered 
that  the  door  which  the  Commander  had  shut  could  be  opened 
dnly  from  the  outside.  It  became  necessary  to  throw  out  the  key/' 
that  some  one  in  the  crowd  might  apply  it  to  the  Icck.  While 
waiting,  his  highness  was  good  enough  to  say,  **  If  we  are  des* 
lined  to  die  in  this  sacristy,  we  will  first  appease  our  banget 


m  ■  If 


Ma 


LIFE    or    ST.    ELIZAICTH, 


bj  eating  the  Counnaader.*'  "  That  u  to  8aj,^  replied  tlit 
latter,  "  if  I  am  in  a  hamour  to  allow  myself  to  be  eateii.** 
The  necessary  tools  were  soon  brought,  and  when  the  work- 
nu;n  had  made  a  breach,  the  Prince  cried  oat,  "  On,  on  ; 
thank  God  !  Here,  then,  are  the  relks  of  St.  Elizabeth  ! 
Behold  my  boDca  and  her  bones  1  Come  hither,  old  Motlicr 
Lisette  I  Behold  my  grandame  !''  Then  this  worthy  descend- 
ant of  a  Saint,  turning  to  the  Commander,  said,  "  It  is  very 
beavy,  my  Lord  Commander;  I  would  be  glad  if  it  were 
full  of  crown-pieces;  but  there  will  be,  I  hope,  tome  good 
old  Ilangarian  florins.'*  "  I  know  not  what  is  in  it,''  said 
the  Commander ;  ''  in  my  life  I  was  never  so  near  it,  and 
"would  to  Heaven  that  1  were  not  here  to  witness  this  scene 
to-day  r  The  shrine  was  opened  ;  the  Landgrave  put  in  liif 
fiand,  and  drew  forth  a  casket  lined  with  red  satin,  which  con- 
tained the  relics  of  the  Saint :  these  he  handed  to  an  officer 
6f  hid  household,  who  threw  them  into  a  forage-bag  carried 
by  a  servant,  who  brought  them  to  the  castle.  The  Land* 
grave  himself  ctit  away  a  piece  off  the  shrine,  which  he  thought 
was  of  massive  gold  ;  be  had  it  tried  by  a  goldsmith;  find- 
ing that  it  wns  of  copper  gilt,  he  cried  oat,  "  How  these 
fnriests  deceive  people  !  They  have  made  this  shrine  of  cop- 
per, and  kept  all  tlie  gold  for  themselves."  Then  he  perceived 
timt  h«  wanted  the  head  of  the  saint ;  and,  after  long  insist- 
ing, he  forced  the  Oomroander  to  show  him  a  secret  press  in 
the  aacriety,  where  the  head  waj  kepi,  together  with  the  crown 
snd  gclden  chalice  that  the  Emperor  Frederic  had  offered,  on 
the  day  of  the  solemn  translation,  three  hundred  and  three 
jrears  before.  Philip  carried  these  treasures  to  the  Castle,  and 
never  since  have  they  been  seen.  And  this  was  the  man  whom 
the  Protestants  named  Philip  iht  Gtntrout. 

In  the  same  year,  1^29,  he  obtained  a  dispensation,  signed 
by  Dr.  Martin  liuther,  and  seven  other  evangelic  theologiani 
Miombded  at  Wittemberg^  to  marry  two  wives  at  the  saros 


Pf  nvnoA^j. 


417 


i\n\fiu  Woribj  WM  he  to  be  the  fatJier  of  that  race  of  princei, 
wi)0  Qiiriog  a  ceutory  lived  upon  the  price  ol^taiued  from  Eagr 
land  for  their  sabjeats,  whom  tbey  sold  to  be  employed  by  her 
iu  the  AmericaQ  and  other  wars. 

The  remains  of  the  Saint  were  interred  soon  after,  under 
a  plain  stone  in  the  church,  in  a  place  unknown  to  all  but 
the  Landgrave  and  two  of  hi3  confidants.  Jn  1546,  under 
the  prete;ct  of  saving  it  from  the  dnngers  of  war,  he  had  thQ 
precious  shrine  carried  to  the  Gi^tle  pf  Ziegenhayn.  But  in 
two  years  after,  yielding  to  the  pressing  demands  of  the  Com- 
mander, John  de  Rehen,  Philip  returned  this  sacrtd  property 
to  Marburg;  at  the  same  time,  be  thought  fit  to  obey  an  order 
lent  to  him,  in  the  very  year  of  the  sacrilege,  by  the  Einperof 
Charles  V^  to  restore  to  the  church  the  relics  of  Saint  Eliza- 
beth. 

They  were  disinterred  and  giyen  tp  the  Coqimander,  bl^ 
were  never  more  replaced  in  the  shrine.  On  the  receipt  of 
them  by  John  de  Rehen,  on  the  12tb  of  July,  1548,  there 
were  a  great  many  psrts  wanting  ;  find,  dating  from  thi^ 
time,  they  were  soon  completely  dispersed. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Spain  made 
^eat  exertions  and  incurred  vast  expense,  to  collect  and 
preserve  tlie  relics  of  saints  w'hich  remained  in  the  countries 
invaded  by  heresy  ;  the  pious  Infanta  Isabella  Clara  Eugenia, 
then  governing  the  Low  Countries,  whose  memory  is  still  so 
popular  iiv  Belgium,  obtained  the  scuti  and  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  bones  of  her  holy  patroness,  and  had  them 
conveyed  to  Brussels,  where  she  entrusted  them  to  the  care 
of  the  Carmelites.  The  scull  was  afterwards  sent  to  tbo 
Castle  de  la  Roche  Guyon,  in  France,  whence  it  has  been 
recently  transferred  to  Beranfon,  by  the  Cardina;!  Duke  do 
Rohan,  and  where  it  is  now  venerated  in  tho  Hospitai  of  Si. 
lames,  in  that  oity. 

Ono  ^  the  armp  woi^eait  to  Hongaiy^  forth^  portiooiiif 
18* 


410 


liri    or    IT.    ILIXABITR, 


liin 


the  relics  are  preserved  at  Hanover,  Vienna,  Colojrne,  and  At 
Br^lait,  in  the  rich  chapel  dedicated  to  her  in  1680,  by  the 
Cardinal  Frederic  of  Hesse,  one  of  her  descendants.  In  this 
chapel  is  also  the  staff  which  she  used  to  assist  her  trenibliii» 
limbs,  when  driven  from  Wartburg. 

We  have  already  mentioned  her  glass  cup,  which  is  at  Er- 
furth;  her  wedding-robe  at  Andechs;  her  wedding-ring  at 
Braunfels,  where  are  also  her  Book  of  Hours,  her  table,  and 
her  straw  chair ;  her  veil  is  shown  at  Tongres. 

In  1833,  the  Count  de  Boos-Waldeck  possessed  one  of  hoi 
arms,  which  he  offered  for  sale  to  several  sovereigns,  who  reck- 
oned her  amount  their  ancestors,  but  without  being  able  to 
find  a  purchaser  I 

At  Marburg  there  are  none  of  her  relics ;  but  a  tradition  as- 
■erta  that  her  bones  were  interred  under  the  grand  altar,  whence 
they  were  stolen  in  1634.  At  the  present  time,  only  a  piece  c/ 
tapestry,  which  it  is  naid  that  she  worked,  is  shown ;  it  represents 
the  parable  of  the  prodigal  child,  and  is  used  at  the  ConiaiUaioa 
I'able,  according  to  the  Lutheran  rite.  Her  shrine  was  conveyed 
to  Cassel  in  the  reign  of  King  Jerome ;  it  was  brought  back  to 
Marburg  in  1814,  and  replaced  in  the  sacristy.  The  magnifi- 
cent church  consecrated  to  God^s  honour  under  her  invocation, 
has  been  used  since  1539  by  the  professors  of  a  belief  whicii  re- 
gards the  veneration  cf  the  saints  as  an  idolatry,  and  never  since 
has  her  sweet  name  been  re-echoed  by  the  voice  of  public  praise. 

The  body  of  this  saint,  so  dear  to  heaven  ana  eailh.  hiis 
not  had  the  same  fate  which  tho  remains  of  other  holy  ones 
have  experienced.  In  many  instances  they  have  reposed, 
guanlod  by  the  love  and  veneration  of  successive  generations, 
near  the  altars  where  the  daily  oblation  of  the  Spotless  Sacri- 
fice is  made.  On  the  contiary,  all  the  countries  in  which  this 
sister  of  the  Angels  sojourned,  have  lost  the  Faith ;  the  chil> 
Una  of  the  people  whom  the  so  tenderly  loved  and  to  fi» 


or    BUVOABT* 


419 


qneiitlj  succoaredf  have  denied  and  renounced  ber  powerful 
protection.  Thuringia,  where  she  lived  a  maiden  and  a  wife ; 
Hesse,  where  rolled  on  the  years  of  her  widowhood ;  each  has 
ahp  >doned  Catholicity. 

The  traces  of  the  proud  Luther  at  Wartbnrg,  have  succeed- 
ed  to  the  remembrance  of  her  pious  and  humble  childhood, 
of  the  trials  of  her  youth,  of  ber  conjugal  life,  unrivalled  in 
its  tenderness  and  sanctity.  From  the  height  of  the  old 
towers  of  the  Castle,  the  eye  of  the  Catholic  traveller  wan- 
ders over  the  wido-spreading  country,  on  whose  people  she 
lavished  untiring  love,  and  seeks  in  vain  a  cottage  or  a 
church  belonging  to  his  co-religionists.  At  Eisenach,  where 
she  truly  followed  Christ  by  her  charity  and  her  sufferings, 
there  is  not  a  Catholic  to  invoke  her — not  an  altar  to  honour 
her  sweet  name-— not  a  consecrated  stone  whereon  to  kneel 
and  demand  her  blessing.  Even  in  the  city  where  she  died, 
— ^where  so  many  thousand  pilgrims  came  to  venerate  her 
relics — where  even  the  marble  is  worn  away  from  the  multi- 
tudes of  the  Faithful  who  knelt  before  her  shrine— her  life  is 
DOW  but  an  historic  fact,  and  the  few  Catholics  who  are  tol- 
erated there  have  not  even  a  special  Mass  on  her  festival  day  I 
Her  tomb  was  not  respected,  and  the  person  who  violated  the 
sanctity  of  her  grave  was  one  of  her  own  descendants.  Is  it 
not,  then,  a  duty  for  Catholics  to  repair  these  insults,  to  restore 
her  glory,  and  by  every  means  to  offer  to  her  the  tribute  of 
their  praise  and  love  1 

These  were  the  feelings  of  the  poor  Capuchin,  whom  we 
quote  for  the  last  time  with  regret,  when  he  said  in  the  17  th 
century — "  When  I  visited  the  noble  church  and  rich  tomb 
of  the  saint,  my  heart  watt  pierced  with  grief  on  finding  them 
b  possession  of  the  Lutherans,  and  now  so  shamefully  do- 
spoiled  of  their  former  splendour.  Oh  I  how  I  lamented 
before  God  and  entreated  the  dear  Saint  Elizabeth,  with  all 
my  might,  to  restore  order  there.     But,  inasmach  as  the 


_>■" 


4tO 


LIWU'  «y    tf.    VLItABITH, 


B':   ! 


htrcftioi  negleot  to  rerere  tliee,  «o  idtoald  ire  render  to  thee 
ftll  honour — eo  should  we  inroke  thee  with  redoubled  fervour, 
O  gloriotts  Mnraot  of  Ood !  and  so  should  we  njoice  for  ever 
that  God  called  thee  in  thine  infancy  ^ic  far-off  Hungar}', 
to  give  thee  to  our  Oenuavj  as  a  most  rare  and  precious 
jewel." 

But  yet,  evea  in  tlie  countries  which  liave  Ibrgotten  her 
jglory  and  renoanoed  her  fantSi,  there  is  devoted  to  the  Saint 
n  mai'k  of  homi^e — perhaps  the  sweetest  and  most  snituble 
ever  decreed.  The  people  havie  given  to  a  Httle  flower,  aa 
finmble  and  modest  as  herself,  the  nam^  ef  the  dear  Saint 
SlieahetKt  Plmdcret;  this  is  the  CfyUut  IfeJianlheum.  U 
ckwtes  its  corolla  at  sunset,  as  Elizabeth  used  to  banish  from 
her  soul  all  that  was  not  a  ray  of  light  and  of  ^ace  from  Or 
High.  How  happy  should  we  he,  if  this  aioall  tribute  which 
we  wish  to  render  to  her  glorious  memory  waa  as  acceptable 
to  her,  as  must  have  been  the  feeling  of  pious  and  confiding 
affbction  which  formerly  induced  some  Catholic  peasants  tc 
eonf^  on  the  flower  they  admired,  her  beloved  name. 

And  it  will  be  permitted  to  us,  before  coQcludii^g  these 
pages,  to  lift  np  our  heart  and  foice  to  yon,  O  glorious 
Baint — to  yon  whom  we  have,  in  hnmble  imitation  of  so 
many  fervent  souls,  dared  to  name  also  ovr  dear  Elizabeth ! 
Oh,  beloved  oT  Chri£(t  I  deign  to  become  the  celestial  protect- 
ress of  our  Bod,  aud  aid  ns  to  become  the  firiend  of  your 
Friend.  Turn  towards  os  from  your  place  In  heavenly  bliss, 
one  !}f  lAiose  gentle  IooIbb  which  on  earth  were  auffident  to 
'heal  the  worst  infirmities  of  maukimL  We  have  come,  in  a 
dailc  and  faithless  age,  to  be  enlightened  by  the  holy  ra* 
diance  of  your  virtues — to  seek  fervour  at  the  furnace  of 
your  love  ;  and  you  havo  welcomed  ns,  and  your  sweet  me 
mory  has  oft^n  given  ns  peace.  Be  yon  blessed  for  ever,  foi 
the  many  precioas  tears  we  liave  shed  over  the  history  of 
'Tonr  sorrows  and  your  patience,  ydur  charity  and  your  an 


OF    RUNSAIIT. 


^lic  simplicity  ;  for  the  laboars  and  wanderings  yon  hav« 
watched  over ;  for  the  many  solitary  days  when  you  alone 
were  present  to  our  minds  ;  for  the  many  sad  hc^rs  that  your 
dear  image  alone  could  solace  !  Blessed  bo  you  for  ever  for 
all  these  favours,  and  do  you  deign  to  bless  the  last  and  mo8| 
oBwortky  of  your  hittorimnf  1 

Bespondens  Jesns  dixit :  Coufiteor  tibi,  Pater  DomiM, 
oeall  *it  terrsB,  quia  abscondisti  h«c  a  Mpientibni  eft  pretei 
ibua  et  reveksti  ea  parvnlia. 

FtAst  ov  Saint  BusAitfi, 
Kotmti  1#,  IMl 


LlfK    or    8T.     ■LIIABETH, 


A  TARLR  SnOWTNO  tm  KASTES  OF  THE  AUTHORS  WROSR  WORKS,  ETTHIR 
IN  MSS.  OK  IN  A  PKINTKD  FORM,  WERE  CONSULTED  BY  TUB  COliry 
MONTALEMBEKT  PREVIOUS  TO  WKITINO  TUIS  UISTORT. 


;  .lii 


m^ 


w 


Tn  offuriiig  this  humble  work  of  ours,  with  the  hope  of  ei- 
teita.iig  the  glory  of  the  Dear  Siiint  Elizabeth^  wo  rcnoiiiu;e 
all  tlie  merit  of  hivention  or  originality.  The  only  honour 
we  hu?e  soaglit  is  that  of  being  regarded  as  a  faithful  com- 
piler and  a  correct  translatx>r  of  the  works  left  us  by  our 
forefathers  iu  the  Faith.  A  pioos  ezactiiiess  Is  the  only  qual- 
ity to  which  we  lay  claim  ;  aud,  to  confirm  this,  we  insert 
A  list  of  all  the  historic  sources  from  which,  during  researches 
and  travels  for  the  Fpace  of  three  years,  undertaken  solely 
for  this  purpose,  we  derived  the  materials  for  the  history 
which  we  now  offer  to  our  readers.  To  those  who  imagine 
they  will  find  in  our  paged  the  marks  of  exaggerated  erudi- 
tion, we  feel  happy  in  being  able  to  give  some  faint  idea  of 
the  zeal,  patience,  and  scrupulous  care,  with  which  the  Ger* 
man  historians  of  the  present  day,  without  distinction  of 
religious  belief,  labour  in  the  fruitful  but  yet  unexplored  field 
of  the  history  of  the  middle  ages.  Other  readers,  from  the 
romantic  and  poetic  character  of  some  passages,  may  be  dis- 
posed to  question  oar  veracity  ;  we  can  bat  refer  them  to  the 
authors  whose  names  follow,  and  to  all  the  authentic  records 
of  the  Saints*  lives,  before  the  epoch  of  mutilation  and  alterpr 
tion.  We  imposed  on  ourselves  as  a  rule,  when  transcribing 
the  annals  of  the  life  of  Elizabeth,  to  add  nothing,  but  also 
not  to  suppress  the  mast  minute  particular.  This  we  have 
o1)served  with  the  utmost  fidelity,  and  we  can  afiirm  that 
there  is  not  a  single  detail  related,  nor  a  word  attributed  to 
fLtij  personage  in  this  history,  that  has  not  ')een  copied  ez« 


or    BUHQART. 


43a 


ftctly  from  works  either  printed  or  in  manuscript,  which  were 
invested  with  all  due  aathority  In  onr  eyes.  On  this  Eiibjec* 
we  may  apply  to  ourselves  the  expressions  of  the  first  bio^ 
rapher  of  the  Saint ;  and  happy  are  we,  aOer  the  lapse  of  fiff 
centuries,  to  speak  with  the  same  firm  ana  simple  faith — "  I 
take  Ood  and  his  holy  angels  to  witness,  that  in  this  little 
book  I  have  uot  inserted  anything  but  what  I  gathered  from 
correct  manuscripts,  or  heard  from  religions  persons  of  un- 
questionable veracity.  I  confess,  also,  that  I  am  unworthy  to 
write  of  these  sublime  and  wonderful  operations  of  Divine 
grace ;  I  hope  and  pray,  that  some  one,  after  reading  this 
history,  will  have  pity  on  it,  and  consecrate  to  the  Saint 
whose  life  it  relates  an  erudition  and  an  eloquence  more 
vorthy  of  her  than  are  mine.^ 


PRINTED. 


4IITB0R8    COirnniPORARIBS    Of    THK    SAniT    OR  LtTINO    PRBYIOOS    TO 

THB  RBFORMATIOM. 

1.  Epistola  magistri  Conradi  de  Marburg  ad  Papam,  de 
vita  B.  Elisabeth.  ., 

2.  Libellus  de  dictis  quatuor  Ancillanim  S.  ElisabethsB  dve 
examen  miracnlorum  et  vitas  ejus. 

3.  Hsec  est  forma  de  statu  mortis  LantgraTifle  de  ThnringiA, 
ex  MS.  Liesbomensi,  apnd  Martene  et  Dnrand^  CoUoctio 
ampliftsima  kc.  Pars  1. 

4.  S.  Bonaventune  sermo  de  sancta  Elisabeth. 

5.  Theodorici  Turing!,  ordinis  pnedicatorum,  librl  octo  de 
8.  Elisabeth,  Andres  regis  Hungarorum  filia. 

6.  De  sancta  Hclisabeth — a  legend  from  the  famous  cot 
lection  entitled :  Aurea  legenda  sanctorum  qua  lombardicik 
hystoria  nominator,  compilata  per  fratrum  Jacobun^  dt 
Vora^e     . 


434 


LIFE    Of    it.    ILllAftBTI, 


t.  Anctor  RhTtmicns  de  vlU  S.  Kltmbethtt  LindgrAr!* 
11iurin{|:iie  h  codice  bibl.  Dncalis  Sftxo  Qothan. 

8.  Monachi  iBeoacenai  rulgo  Jobantiif  Rothe,  Chronicon 
l%oringin  Ternaculnm. 

9.  Legende  tod  Sant  ElBebeten-^in  the  greftt  legend  called 
Ftuwional. 

10.  Sermo  de  S.  Elteabetb,  in  tbe  TbeeanfoB  novofl  dc 
Sanctis. 

11.  Vita  illoMtris  ae  di?0  Elisabeth,  tegia  Hongaronini 
the  coiiscripta  stilo  elegantisslmo  opera  Ohritti  Sacerdotii 
Jacobi  Montani  Spirensis— inserted  in  the  large  edition  of 
finrins,  entitled,  De  Probatis  Sanctwum  Uistdriis 

12.  Annales  de  Hafnant,  par  Jean  LefRtre-^pnbliahed  also 
after  tlie  Histoire  de  Hainaut,  par  Jaoqdea  de  Onyse. 

We  omit  the  names  of  several  authors,  snch  as  Vincent  de 
Beaavais  &c.,  who  have  only  8pol[en  in  a  cursory  manner  of 
St.  Elizabeth  in  their  wofkik 

CATHOLIC  WRitiaa  Afna  nn  RzroRMATioff. 


:    i 


Id.  Antottii  Bonllnfi  Remm  TTngarienm  decade  qnatuor 
cnm  dimidio  1581. 

14.  Annales  mittorntn  len  trfatti  ordinom  a  8.  Fmneisco 
institntorum  a  R.  P.  Lnca  Wadding  bibefnfr.    Rome,  1732. 

15  Justus  Lipsius,  tKta  Tirgo  Halleniia  opera.  Tome 
n.  page  809. 

16.  Bavaria  sancta,  descripta  a  MatthMo  Badero,  de  So& 
Jesus  Monacf,  1615. 

n.  La  vie  de  8.  Eliaabelh,  fifle  da  Roi  de  Hongrie, 
Duchesse  de  Thnifnge,  pTemi^  religiease  du  tiers  ordre  de 
Hi.  Franks,  recaeillie  par  le  R.  P.  Apollioaire,  retne>  oor- 
fig^e,  et  augment^,  par  le  R.  P.  Jeai  Marie,  da  ni4ne  or  Ire. 
Ihiris,  l66a. 

16  La  Vie  de  S.  Elizabeth,  die,  par  le  P  Afchsoga, 


f^ligieQX  peoiteftt  dtt  troisiime  ordre  de  9t  Fmn^.  Ptria, 
1692. 

19.  Aaserieienci  history  Bdclt  too  deft  IMien  ClottM 
hciiigcn,  &c.,  bjr  P.  MartiQ  de  Kocbem,  Capuchin.  Aog** 
mm^,  1781 

20.  UistoiredesOrdresMonaatiqaeifleP  Helyoi  PtrK^ 

21.  Die  Leg^dde  der  H.  EUnbeth,  foii  Johaim.  Oraf 
liailftth.  1822. 

• 

rBOmTAHT  AUTHORS. 


t9.  Adftml  ttr^inf,  Molybergcosis  Chronlcon  tliarlttgUi 
fernaciilam,  apud  Menckenii  Script.  Rer.  Sax.     1547. 

23.  Diva  Elisabetha  magnitiee  coronata  ;  Christiliche 
Ebrengedoechtiiiss  der  H.  EGiabeth,  ii  zwei  Predigteii,  voo 
i.  B.  Happel,  Lutbeian  Minister  cf  the  Teatouic  Order. 
(045. 

24.  Oedrg.  Michel  Pfelferkorn,  Aaserlesene  OescLichto 
rOft  der  berutnhten  Landgrafschaft  Thiiriiigen,  1684. 

1^5.  J.  J.  Wirkelinan,  Beschfuibuiig  der  FursteLChumer, 
Hedsen,  &c.    Bfcmen,  1608. 

26.  Ghr.  Fron.  PaalHui  historia  Eisenacensis,  X,e.  Frank- 
fort, 1098. 

27.  Andret^s  Toppiud  Btetorir.  def  Sta^t  fii^nach,  fer- 
fasset,  1660. 

28.  Job.  Mich.  JSoch.  Hlstorlche  Erzcelung  von  dem  6chIosf 
Wiiitburg  ob  Eisenach,  1 1 1 0. 

29.  Das  itn  Jahr,  1708,  lebende  und  schwebeode  Eisenack, 
fMi  Johann  Limperg,  1709. 

30.  Bina  Sanct&rum,  Etisabetharam — (her  of  l^hsageo, 
who  died  in  1056,  and  onrs) — Veluti  illtistrissfmarutia  Soec.  zi 
and  xiii.,  testinm  feritatid  e?aogeliciB  in  Itassia,  memiiria 
■MNinmSfitil  et  tttunidis  dcclarata,  i  J.  A.  tiiebknecht,  1T29. 


4M 


LIfl    OF    ST.    ILIIABITH, 


81.  J.  H.  Yon  Falckeustetn,  Thiiriugiich«  Chronik  S.  ? 
Erfurt,  1788. 

82.  J.  Q.  A.  Galletti,  Oescliichte  Tburingeni,  Ootha, 
1783. 

83.  Thiiringiiche  geschichte  aos  lAorrrAiinjs  hiDterlasseo 
en  Papieren,  kc.  1787. 

84.  Klisabfith  die  heilige,  Landgnsfin  too  Thtiringen  and 
Bo8scn,  kc,  Ton  Dr.  Karl  Wilhelm  Jasti,  1707.     1885. 

85.  J.  C.  S.  ThoD,  Bchloss  Wartburg,  Eisenach,  1826. 

86.  Histoire  G^nealogiqae  de  1%  Maison  de  Hesse.  Bj 
Baron  Turkheim.    Strasbourg,  1819. 

37.  Oeschichte  von  Hessen,  von  Christophe  Romniel,  1820. 
88.  Oeschichte  der  Hohenstaufen,  and  ibrer  Zeit.  bj  Fred 
trie  de  Raumer. 

MANUSCRIPTS. 

^  Das  Leben  des  edein  tnginthaftin  lantgrayen  Ladewigii 
.4  de  was  elich  gemahel  unde  wert  der  helligen  hochgebor- 
uen  Frouwin  Elysabcth,  Life  of  the  noble  and  virtuous  Land* 
grave  Louis,  husband  and  liege  lord  of  the  holy  and  most 
noble  lady  Elizabeth,  written  by  the  Sire  Bertbold,  his  chap 
lain.    Library  at  Gotha,  another  at  Cassel. 

2.  Vita  S.  Elisabethie  Landgravie  a  fratre  Csesario,  sacer 
doti  in  monasterio  vallis  S.  Petri,  better  known  as  Ceesar  of 
Heisterbach*,  1237. 

3.  Der  lieben  frowen  sant  Elysabeten  de  landgrefin  leben 

4.  Cy  en  commence  la  vir-  ck  $te.  Elysabel  fille  an  roy  df 
Bongrie.    Rutcbeuf  MS.  763^     Bibli.  Roy.  Paris. 

5.  Chi  commenche  de  Ste.  Ynbiel.  JLe  moine  Roberl 
MS.  I3th  century.     Bib.  du  r^.  Pdris,  Xo.  1862. 

6.  Sente  Elsebet  Leben.    IWmstadt. 

1,  Yon  Sente  Elysabetheo.     Strasbonrg. 

8.  Von  Sente  EIsalNethen.    Heidelberg,  1845,  1S49 


OF   nviioART. 


4fl 


f .  Tita  S.  ElyBbcthsD  ITiinj^rifle  Regtna.     Florence. 

10.  Ijfgende  dcr  H.  Elisabet  und  8.  Gortraud  ir  mutter. 

11.  IlistoriaccclcNiaRtica  Isenaccnsis  per  Munich.  M.Nicb* 
»Ioum  Rcbhnhn,  1621.  Eisenach. 

12.  Joh.  Whil.  Waldschmidt.  Commentatio  gnccincts  d« 
rita  ct  fntis  M.  Conradi  do  Marburg,  Confessoris  div»  EliM^ 
betliae.    Cassel  Library. 

1 3.  Leben  Mag.  Conradi  Yon  Marbnrg.  J.  N  Schroiiikioi^ 
Bibli.  dc  Cassel. 

And  thirteen  other  docaments  in  Mannscript  collected  b| 
the  BollandisU,  and  d)w  in  the  Burgnndlan  librtij, 


